Friction
by irite
Summary: Neither Steve nor Clint is in the best place right now, but things are looking up. And they are beginning to settle into their new lives. Who says they can't do it together? Sequel to "Fusion," Part III of "If Nothing Else." Background Bruce/Thor, Natasha/Tony, and another relationship to come.
1. Finding His Moorings

**So here is the Clint/Steve sequel to Finite and Fusion, as promised. I feel like it can be read as a stand-alone, but if there are questions, just ask!**

**My beta, dysprositos, is absolutely the best. She read over more drafts of this than usual and listened to me whine. And helped me with the summary. And made the fuckawesome cover image. So basically she did everything!**

**WARNING: the first italicized section is slightly violent/graphic. If that bothers you, you may want to skip it. It's pretty clear what's going on afterwards, I think.**

* * *

Clint tucks a leg under him as he leans back against the pillows on his bed, thinking.

A few days ago, he'd said some stupid fucking shit to Nat and she'd done something (she wouldn't say what exactly, but from her tone it sounded pretty damn bad) to make her...boyfriend, he guessed, Tony Stark (and Clint would never get over that as long as he lived), retreat to the other side of the country.

But as Clint understood it, Tony's friend Rhodey had gotten Tony's head out of his ass, and Clint had talked to Tasha and explained what he meant in more clear detail, and Tony had returned, and they'd gotten back together after a long discussion.

Clint has _tons _of mixed feelings on this subject; he loves Tasha, and she's like his sister (so much more of a sibling than Barney ever was). And he's kind of always thought that it would be Nat-and-Clint forever.

That may have been shortsighted of him, though, because now she has Stark, and after their big uproar, they seem good.

Clint's pretty sure that he's happy about that, like, Natasha's a great person and if Stark makes her happy then she should be with him, but there's still a part of Clint that wants to cling to her and never let go.

It's hard.

But he's trying. He suggested that the happy couple (gag, they had a higher PDA rate that Thor and Bruce) watch the new Bond movie, and apparently they did because Stark thanked him for the suggestion the next day at dinner (and Clint's making an effort, making such a goddamn effort to get along with Stark—for Tasha's sake).

And this has been stressing him out, and compound that with his issues resulting from Larry's takeover of his mind, and he's not in the best place right now.

Reaching down to scoop a tennis ball off the floor, Clint begins to throw it against the wall, settling into the familiar rhythm of throw and catch, throw and catch.

This is his quiet time, the time where JARVIS knows not to disturb him unless it's an emergency, the time Clint makes sure to set aside for himself every day.

It's a chance to get his thoughts in order and to wind down from what can be a stressful day. He's been going out to volunteer with some of the others, helping to clean up from their battle with the Chitauri, but there have been many days when he doesn't feel up to going.

None of his teammates (maybe even friends? Natasha is one, for sure, and maybe some of the others) have pushed him.

That might be a good thing, or it might be bad. Clint's comfortable enough with not pushing his limits that he thinks that without a good shove, he might not ever step outside this protective bubble that he's created for himself in the wake of his possession by Larry (the nickname Stark had given to Loki's doppelganger, who was actually the one who'd actually tried to take over the world; Loki had been being held captive by the doppelganger's people at the time).

And there are days when Clint doesn't think that he's got the willpower to give himself that shove.

The steady thump, thump, thump of the ball helps to calm him down, and he attempts to keep his thoughts positive.

Therapy's never been the right kind of thing for him. He'd formed the habit of keeping things _very_ close to his chest growing up and undoing all those years of that programming, for lack of a better word, is not something he's interested in doing.

But he has attended therapy every so often, gotten advice, and he has looked on the Internet (although there are no support groups for 'I was brainwashed by an alien and probably responsible for the deaths of several of my coworkers,' not even on any conspiracy theory websites) for some information on making himself better, recovering from this low period.

His insomnia has been known to show its head every once in a while, and everyone seems to agree that thinking both calmly and positively before bedtime is one of the best things for that.

About the only damn thing they do agree on.

So he lets the repetitive motion and noise of the bouncing ball soothe him, and he is soon dropping the ball on the floor and crawling under the covers to go to sleep.

* * *

_Clint was a prisoner in his own brain again._

_And, just the same as before, facing Natasha._

_But this time he had a gun and she __was unarmed__, and the thing controlling his body wasn't letting her get in close enough to strike __with her fists or feet__._

_She wove around __him__, trying to make herself as challenging a target as possible, but he wasn't called the 'World's Greatest Marksman' for nothing__. __A__nd even if he wasn't in the driver's seat of his own brain, his body still had muscle memory._

_Still knew what to do._

_And Clint screamed, begged, pleaded with the thing controlling him, but it ignored him._

_He was gagged and bound in the corner of his own mind as his body shot and killed his best friend, hitting her perfectly between her eyes, a round bullet hole._

_Her body sank to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and __—_

Clint wakes up, gasping.

It's not the first time he's had a nightmare post-Larry, nor the first time he's killed Natasha in his dreams.

But it's gonna be the first time that he can't go next door and be comforted by Natasha because she's up with Stark, he just knows it.

After uneasily tossing and turning, trying to get back to sleep, the image of her lifeless body imprinted on the back of his eyelids, he decides to go to her room anyway.

He can crawl in her bed and that will be comfort enough for him to get back to sleep.

So he's surprised (pleasantly so) when he slips out into the hall, jimmies the lock on her door, and goes inside to find her there.

Down the hall and into her bedroom, and it's dark, but they don't call him 'Hawkeye' for nothing. There's one person-sized lump in her bed, and he grins to himself, calling lowly, "Hey, Nat."

She grunts at him, but he knows that she woke up as soon as he entered her apartment.

Slipping under the covers next to her, he feels better already, although he knows that being so dependent on another person isn't good for him or for her.

He'll worry about that in the morning, as he turns to press his back to hers, relaxing into the familiar position.

Falling back asleep is so much easier now.

* * *

In the morning, he wakes up to Natasha, already dressed, perched on the edge of the bed with two coffee cups; the aroma is what woke him.

She offers him one, with just the right amount of sugar, and asks quietly, calmly, "Want to talk about it?"

He takes three long drinks in succession to get his brain on line, and then cocks his head to the side, considering.

"Not really. Same old same, me killing you."

"No, Clint. _You_ weren't killing me, Larry was. There's a big distinction there."

The way that she can coolly state that makes him respect her even more, and she's right, but sometimes he just needs that pointed out to him.

"It just feels like me. I mean, I'm there, I _know_ what's going on, and I'm powerless."

He takes another swig of his coffee, continuing to steadily drain the cup.

"But it _was not you_, Clint. And I'll remind you of that as much as it takes to get it through your thick skull. I mean, I'm pretty sure that you only want to kill me about once a month or so, but you've never seriously done anything about it...right?" She adopts a concerned expression that has him laughing out loud.

Sometimes black humor's the only way to lighten a mood.

"No, Tasha. Never. You're never quite _that_ annoying. But your boyfriend on the other hand... Speaking of him, how come you're in here? I figured you'd be up with him and I could come creep in your bed without you being the wiser."

"Because we decided that sleeping in the same room wasn't going to be good for us. We have pretty different schedules at times, and I'm not the easiest person to sleep with, you know. I mean, it took me what, three, four months to be able to wake up without having pulled a knife on you in my sleep? And we'd been working together for a while before that."

"The knife thing was kinda cute, though."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I am not cute. Anyway, dumbass, I'm glad I was here to help you. I'm still here for you, брат, whenever you need it."

"Thanks, Nat. I'm trying on my own, I really am."

She knows his history with therapy, doesn't even suggest it as an option.

Instead, she grins mischievously at him and orders, "Get out of bed, sleepyhead. It's breakfast time."

He does, his now-empty coffee cup in his hand.

She follows him to the door, and when they're out in the hall, unexpectedly jumps on his back. That's something she hasn't done in a while, but used to be one of her reassurance tactics when dealing with him, back when they were first getting acquainted.

Physical contact was never something that she was uneasy about even from the beginning (a character trait given to her by her former employers), but she'd sometimes felt safer around him when he couldn't see her, knowing that his eyes and line of sight were the most important things to him.

So he'd given her a lot of piggyback rides without complaining then.

And he knows better to complain now. She's got an elbow perched on his shoulder and he knows from experience that those things are _bony_ when she applies them properly.

He carries her into the elevator (he can practically feel her disapproving frown, but there's no way he's going down several flights of stairs with her on his back, no thanks) and when they reach the common floor, they head out towards the kitchen, following the smell of bacon.

Which they seem to eat often, but Clint supposes that feeding two Æsir (because that's essentially what Loki is, blue skin or not), a supersoldier, and five other people with pretty healthy appetites requires some thought. And fat.

Besides, Clint may or may not have bought the jumbo pack of bacon when he went to the grocery store last week.

But he's cool with JARVIS, and it can never be conclusively proven that it _was_ him.

Steve's cooking with Tony, who turns around to look as the new arrivals make themselves known in the kitchen.

Tony rolls his eyes at their antics; a strange look, almost wistful, passes across Steve's face before he turns his attention back to the food.

Tasha slides down and goes over to Tony; Clint gets himself a refill on his coffee.

He should probably spend some time with Steve later, see what's up. He'd been helping Steve some, since his methods of dealing with his angst are usually to draw things and then tear them up, brood, punch holes in heavy bags, and brood some more.

At least this way, Clint can brood with him so that he's not just sitting there alone.

Clint figures that hanging out with his team leader might be a nice thing. Steve doesn't seem to seek others out to socialize often, but Clint doesn't have much of a problem taking the party to him, so to speak.

But Thor, Loki, and Bruce come into the kitchen together then, and Clint doesn't have the chance to speak to Steve. That's probably better, though; Steve doesn't like having his personal business be common knowledge, and as Captain America, he already has to deal with enough of that bullshit.

Loki's eventually sent to fetch Darcy (Natasha gives him a cup of coffee to take to her), and they eat a group breakfast together.

Honestly, they've been eating as many of their meals together as possible. Clint likes that.

It's a good way for him to get to know his teammates better because the way people act when food's around is usually a good indicator of their personality, at least in his experience.

Someone like Bruce, who always unconsciously hunches over his plate slightly, has been like Clint, had to go without at some point.

Steve's the same way, but he seems to make a conscious effort to _not_ be defensive of his food. That probably stems from growing up in the Great Depression, Clint figures.

Darcy, and to some extent, Thor, are just the opposite, very open, even when food's around.

But everyone's always willing to share ("Have the last french fry," "piece of bacon," and so on.) or pass something to their teammates, and Clint likes the easy camaraderie that they've established over the dining room table.

It's something that they always pretended to have when he was younger, him and Barney and the other carnies, but with the other Avengers, it feels genuine. Real.

So he's smiling a little to himself as he eats, and then after breakfast (Thor and Bruce have dish duty), he grabs Steve's elbow as he goes to leave the room.

"Wanna go work out?" Clint offers.

Steve shrugs, but says, "Sure. Just let me go grab my gym clothes."

Clint's still in his pajamas, he should probably do the same. "Meet you there in ten?"

"Okay," Steve's smile is bigger this time, and Clint's pretty sure that he's got the supersoldier's habits figured out. He heads out, up the stairs in the direction of his room.

And yeah, he'll admit to having the teensiest little crush on Steve, but honestly, who wouldn't? Clint had been hearing nothing but 'Captain America this' and 'Captain America that' ever since he was assigned under Coulson.

He thinks the name without flinching and then starts to mentally kick himself before realizing that maybe that's a good thing.

Coulson's dead, after all, and he's not coming back. And he definitely wouldn't want Clint moping around missing him.

Being in the middle of the action was one of Coulson's favorite things about his job, and he knew the risks when he signed up.

This realization makes Clint grin, and then he glances at the clock on his nightstand. It's been almost ten minutes, and Clint scrambles to get his pjs off and his gym shorts on, shoving his feet into tennis shoes and throwing his t-shirt over his shoulder, hurrying down the hall to the elevator.

It wouldn't do to be late, Steve seems like a punctual guy.

Inside he leans against the wall, tying his shoelaces.

Off-balance, he practically falls out of the elevator onto the gym level, and he whips his shirt off his shoulder, pulling it over his head in an attempt to cover his flushed face.

He might leave it over his face for slightly longer than necessary, long enough that Steve, who's apparently already there (or is a ninja with the ability to walk silently), calls teasingly, "Got your own gym under there, Barton, or are you gonna get with the program?"

Hurriedly, Clint thrusts his head through the top of the shirt, smoothing down the front and offering what he hopes is an exasperated (and not embarrassed) look.

Steve seems better than he has in a while, his body language relaxed and a big smile on his face. Clint's glad to have contributed to this mood (he thinks he has, at least).

He's always enjoyed making other people happy.

And so they start out, Steve on the heavy bags to warm up; Clint on the elliptical.

They'll spar later, after they've both gotten some of their excess energy out. Neither of them wants to accidentally injure the other, so sparring last is the best option.

Although his iPod is stored in his gym locker at the moment, he doesn't retrieve it, opting instead to work out with only the sounds of his and Steve's grunts in the background.

Quiet reigns for a while.

And then Clint turns the machine off, goes for a towel from the stack along the side wall of the gym, and wipes the sweat off his face.

"You good, Steve?" he asks.

"Huh?" Steve's in the 'zone,' Clint can tell, and so it takes him a minute to finally respond, "I'm fine, just gimme a minute. I'll be right with you."

So Clint flops to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, and pretends to do some toe-touching exercises while he's really checking out Steve's ass.

He lives with a hell of a lot of attractive people, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't look from time to time.

Hell, he's even been known to check out Thor and Bruce, who are as taken as taken can be, if their mushy interactions are anything to go by.

They border on the overly-attached at times, and Clint's glad that Nat seems smarter than that with Stark (even if it hadn't been that way at first until he'd stepped in, something that he regrets doing because they would have figured it out on their own eventually).

But Steve's unattached (and probably oblivious, god, Clint hopes so), so he can watch all he likes without feeling too guilty. And it's not just Steve's ass, Clint likes _Steve_.

Steve's kind and pretty funny and he's never looked at Clint any differently having known what Clint did while under Larry's control.

From all that Coulson had talked about Captain America, Clint had been expecting a stuck-up showoff, and Steve couldn't be any farther from that stereotype if he tried. It's rather endearing.

And so Clint enjoys the show until Steve stops, stretches his back, and adjusts the wrappings on his hands.

Clint doesn't like wrapping his—and he's usually careful enough to where he doesn't need to—so he just bounces to his feet, pops his mouthpiece in, and moves into the sparring ring opposite Steve, who is doing the same.

Without any warning, Steve moves in, throwing a right jab directly at Clint's face; he blocks, and they begin in earnest, feinting and shuffling around.

Both are grinning, and after a while Clint calls timeout and strips his shirt off over his head.

They wrap up and shake hands (Steve's tradition; Clint thinks it's cute), going their separate ways, Steve into the locker room to shower, Clint out and up to his room to take his, because despite the fact that this gym is built for several people (and contains more than enough lockers to go around), there's only one shower. Weird.

Clint hasn't exactly _talked_ to Steve, which was what he thought that he would set out to do, but he thinks that they've communicated anyway, and Steve does seem better, happier than he had before they'd gone to the gym.

So Clint showers and then wanders down to the common floor, dropping onto the couch and channel-surfing for a while, mindlessly.

Eventually, Loki comes in and takes a seat on a nearby chair (at this point, Clint is sprawled out over the couch and there's no room for anyone else).

Clint expected himself to flinch. He has given up on expecting himself to _not_ flinch when Loki, who looks exactly like Larry (well, his hair is somewhat shorter) but is not actually Larry, is around.

But _he doesn't flinch_.

Doesn't do anything at all except blink and then greet his, well, friend, "Hey, Loki." And because he has not yet found anything worth watching, he inquires, "Any requests?"

"I have none at the moment."

"Cool."

Clint carries on flipping channels and not thinking, and he is surprised when Loki speaks again.

"I am hungry, but I am tired of staying inside all of the time. Do you think it would be possible for me to get lunch from somewhere outside the Tower?"

He's not really sure why Loki is asking him, but it's something to do, and Loki's right, he _should_ be able to leave the Tower by now; it's totally unfair.

So Clint swings his legs to the floor and turns the TV off, putting the remote on the coffee table. Anyway, he's bored.

"Sure, it's possible. I'll go with you. Have you tried hot dogs yet?"

Loki smiles, "I have not. Should I?"

"Oh, man, how is that even a question?" Clint's barefoot, so he adds, "Just lemme go grab my shoes and we can go out. I'm pretty sure there's a hot dog stand around the corner, and we can hang out around there while we eat, get some fresh air."

And he's going to be grabbing a gun, but Loki doesn't need to know that.

So he gets his shoes and gun, sliding it into an ankle holster (a Christmas present from Phil a few years back). And his wallet, because someone's going to have to pay for this shit.

They go out, Loki asking Clint if he often eats hot dogs and that transitions fairly smoothly into a conversation about likes and dislikes. Loki's quiet but earnest, and that's different from how Larry had been. And Larry'd never been interested in Clint's favorite type of music, just in his ability to get the job done.

Yeah, comparing the two isn't really cool, but at least Clint's not flinching, and he's just taking this thing one step at a time. It's not like there's an accepted precedent on how to deal with the doppelganger of the guy who hijacked your brain and therefore body.

Clint has to order for Loki at the hot dog stand (he only has one request; apparently he doesn't like pickles), and they get their food and go over to a small group of nearby benches to eat.

Clint hadn't realized that he was so hungry, but now that he has food in his hands he is starving, so he's wolfing down his two hot dogs and Loki's doing the same.

A couple of kids come up to them.

"Hey, aren't you Hawkeye?" one of them asks.

This is the first time this has happened to Clint (when he volunteers people don't talk to him, they're so engrossed in their own jobs), and so he flounders for words for a moment before mustering up a smile and replying, "Sure am, and what's your name, kiddo?"

They identify themselves as Bobby and Chris, and Chris, who is apparently the more daring of the two, turns to Loki and asks, "Aren't you the bad guy? Why are you having lunch together? Are you dating?"

"You are full of questions," Loki answers, "But I am not the 'bad guy,' as you say, although we do share a resemblance. I am having lunch with Clint because he asked me to, and we are not 'dating.'"

"I'm Clint," Clint offers helpfully.

"I know _that_," Chris huffs, turning her body fully to Loki. "But why do you look like the bad guy, then?"

"Because he thought that looking like me would be a good way to make a lot of people angry and scared of me. I do hope that it is not working."

That's a good way to put it, Clint thinks, and he tries to smile encouragingly in support.

Just then, a harried father hurries over, "Bobby, Chris, I told you to wait with me while I paid for our food!"

"But look, daddy, it's an Avenger!"

"Two Avengers, actually," Clint corrects gently, adding, "Sir."

"I hope they weren't bothering you," the father says, the 'Avenger' bit seeming to go right over his head.

"Not at all," Loki responds. "Your children are delightful."

"Thank you," the father takes their hands and turns to leave.

Clint looks at Loki.

Loki shrugs, "That could have gone worse. I do like children," and here his smile turns a little wistful.

"Kids are okay, I mean, whatever. You through eating?" Clint's more alert now, and he notices that there are several people watching them.

He feels exposed in this large crowd of people, down at ground level. Vulnerable.

But alarming Loki won't do any good, so he does his best to keep his voice level, and he thinks he succeeds.

"I will be in a moment," Loki replies, and proceeds to finish off his food in two bites.

Clint crumples up his wrapper without looking, waiting.

Loki does the same with his after a moment, and as soon as the noise registers with Clint, he's on his feet.

"C'mon, let's go. It's hot out here," he attempts to lie.

"I do not feel the heat as strongly as you do, but if it is bothering you I would not want to keep you outside in it," Loki says.

They walk back to the Tower after throwing their trash away, and when they get back inside, Loki invites Clint to play a Monopoly game.

This is an awful lot of sudden togetherness, especially coming from Loki, who has preferred to keep to himself, and so Clint decides to ask what the hell's going on.

"Loki, I mean, sure I'll play Monopoly with you, whatever, but why are you suddenly so interested in hanging out with me?"

Loki actually bites his lip before replying hesitantly, "Well, Thor and Bruce have gone out for the day, and it was clear that they did not want me along. Darcy is working with your Natasha. Steve is still uncomfortable around me, and I would only be in Tony's way in his workshop. That only leaves you. Not that you are my last choice or something similar, it is just that we are truly the only ones left."

The way that Loki says this makes Clint feel that the demigod has most definitely been told this at some point in his life, and he gets that. Being odd man out is never fun.

"Hey, man, it's fine. And she's not 'my' Natasha, you'd better never let her hear you say that or else. Now, c'mon, Frosty, where's the Monopoly board? I'm gonna kick your ass this time!"

They go upstairs to the common living room, and Clint flops down on the floor while Loki gets the game out of the cabinet.

"Are we going to play on the floor?" Loki asks, his head tilted to the side.

"I am, but you can sit wherever you want," Clint magnanimously responds. He's too comfortable to move.

And they start playing, and as usual Loki gets out to an early lead, but Clint's determined to win, so he settles in for a long afternoon of strategy.

* * *

_Clint had just let Thor out of the car so that he could fly their weapons back across the Canadian-American border __to keep the customs officials from asking questions__, and now Clint was alone in the vehicle with Loki._

_Which was something that he had been trying to avoid. Being alone with Loki, that is._

_Because as much as he believed Thor's story (which he _did_), there was a difference between knowing something intellectually and not being able to force himself from freezing up whenever Loki was around._

_But they were alone now, and if this had all been a ruse, then this would be the ideal time for Loki to make his move._

_So Clint flicked off the radio, wanting to be as alert as possible._

_But the silence was starting to bother him (Loki hadn't been talking yet, then), so he said, "Why are you doing this? What could you possibly get out of this?"_

_Loki shrugged, pointing to his mouth._

"_Right, yes or no questions only. Got it. So. You're really Loki. Thor's brother."_

_A nod._

"_And you were tortured, so you know what I'm going through."_

_Another nod._

"_So you get why I don't like you, why I don't want to be around you?" That was _definitely_ more information than Clint had been meaning to reveal, but his brain-to-mouth filter had not been functioning properly ever since he'd gotten released from the mind control._

_Loki's eyes turned sad, mournful, and he nodded._

_Clint swore under his breath and __changed the subject, launching__ into an abrupt, quick-and-dirty explanation of customs, something that Thor had asked that Loki be provided, and when that was over, he only gave short, terse answers to the customs officials, flipping the radio back on when they were through._

_Thor got back in the car, and Clint didn't talk to him either, tapping a finger along with the music and existing inside his own head for the rest of the drive home._

* * *

Clint and Loki have been playing for several hours (with a couple bathroom breaks, during which they asked JARVIS to watch their board for them), when Darcy comes into the room and flops onto the couch, followed by Natasha a few minutes later.

"Tony's gone out for his interview, limo and everything, the whole nine yards," Darcy declares, "And Thor, Bruce, and Steve should be up to watch soon. Popcorn, anyone?"

The general consensus seems to be 'yes,' so Darcy heaves herself up dramatically to go make it.

Thor and Bruce come in right after Steve, and Thor bends down to give Loki a quick hug, but they avoid the game board other than that, which is good because Clint thinks that he might just have Loki beat in a few more moves.

Darcy comes back with the popcorn (this is fast becoming a ritual, group viewings of the others' interviews), and turns on the TV.

Tony comes on shortly, and it's his usual pomp and circumstance, but tempered by something new.

Clint thinks that this factor might be Natasha, and when Tony talks about her briefly with a stupid smile on his face, he's pretty sure that he's right.

That makes him feel a little better about the new, slight distance between him and his best friend.

So he's happier going to bed that evening than he had been waking up that morning (he _did _beat Loki, fuck yeah).

* * *

брат is Russian for 'brother,' according to google translate.

* * *

**Few business things: **

**The flashback was to a conversation that was touched upon in chapter 15 of Finite, if anyone's interested.**

**Shameless self-promotion: I used my break to write some new things, including the beginnings of a Thunderscience high school AU.**

**Comments?**


	2. Getting Along

**My beta, dysprositos, is the absolute best. Thanks to her for being beta-tastic.**

**WARNING: discussion of sexuality-related issues. I don't want to offend anyone, and if I do, please let me know so I can fix things.**

* * *

Steve wakes up, promptly notes the light flooding into his room through the curtains he forgot to close properly last night, and groans, yanking the covers over his head to block out the light.

There's a ripping noise, and he groans louder, curling his knees up to his chest so that he can hide his whole body under the blanket and sheet that he has just severed from the end tucked under the mattress.

He stays like that for a while until his stomach's rumbling forces him onto his feet. Once he's up, he surveys the damage (it's a lost cause) before he wads up the destroyed covers and removes the rest of them from under the edge of the mattress.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time that this has happened, and so he carries the pile of ruined fabric over to a chair in his living room. JARVIS told him the first time that this happened that Tony was always in need of more rags, so Steve plans to come back later, rip the fabric into useful-sized strips, and take it down to Tony's workshop, where he'll leave it on the small pile of rags Tony keeps in the corner.

Tony has never said anything about Steve's donations, and that makes Steve pretty sure that Tony doesn't know. He doesn't suppose JARVIS tells Tony everything, because with the extent of JARVIS's knowledge, that would be overwhelming.

Of course, Tony doesn't seem like the type to be easily overwhelmed, but Steve supposes that he has been at some point.

Because nobody has it together all the time. Steve certainly doesn't, and Bucky didn't, and he's seen most of his teammates—both the Howling Commandos _and_ now the other Avengers—have some pretty bad days.

Just not Tony, because he hides it well. Or goes to the other side of the country to deal with his issues, like he had while Natasha stalked around corners and glared at anyone who got too close.

She'd even shut Clint out, then, and Steve had noticed that as much as he tried to hide it, that had hurt the archer.

Steve hasn't heard Clint talk about it afterwards, though, and once Tony had come back and he and Natasha had made up, Steve assumed that Clint and Natasha had talked, since the issue seemed to be forgotten.

And they aren't the only ones Steve's seen when they were down, because Steve has seen Bruce come close to having a Hulk-out (and been a total jerk about it, too), not to mention his boyfriend (Steve's pretty sure that's the correct term), Thor, who'd punched Steve when Steve was being intolerant of Bruce.

He'd deserved that.

Loki hasn't been at his best since he'd arrived, and Steve has observed Darcy Lewis being both talkative and withdrawn in her interactions with the others.

They haven't spoken much, not since he offered her the eighth place on the team and she'd accepted on the condition that she finish college first.

He can understand that. He'd always wanted to go to art school, but there was never the money for it. His medications (some that worked, and some that didn't) took up almost all the money he and Bucky didn't use on food, and the fact that some days he couldn't go to work didn't help things any.

Bucky had told him to not give up, that the Depression couldn't last forever.

And it hadn't. Things had been looking better, but then the war had started in Europe and suddenly things were looking grim again.

A knock at the door startles Steve out of his reverie, and he realizes that he's sitting on the coffee table with his head in his hands.

Running a hand through his hair, he stands and goes over to open the door, revealing Clint on the other side.

"Hey, Steve. You didn't come down for breakfast, and we got kinda worried. Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry for making you worry."

"Not a problem," Clint punches Steve's shoulder lightly. "Come on down when you're ready, I put a plate in the microwave for you. Sausage and biscuits today, and everyone's gone off to do their own thing."

"Thanks, Clint. I'll be down in a minute."

"Don't rush on my account," Clint says and turns to leave.

Steve looks down at himself as Clint turns to leave and immediately blushes. He's not wearing pants, doesn't usually sleep in them.

So Clint saw him in his boxers.

As he goes to go put on clothes, he wonders why, exactly, it bothers him that Clint saw him like that. Steve had bathed in front of the other guys in the army, and it's certainly not like standards have gotten more modest since then. The opposite, actually.

Maybe it's because it's _Clint_. And Steve likes Clint, thinks he's a pretty swell guy and handsome besides.

Besides, back then, Steve had refused to consider the fact that he might like men. He was already small and scrawny and he refused to give into any sort of stereotyping of that any more than was necessary.

The fact that he was best friends with one of the most attractive—and charming—men he knew who was also completely into dames made things easier. Steve was used to Bucky, and the fact that sometimes Bucky'd try out a new line on Steve had quit making him blush years before Bucky'd joined the army. It just usually garnered Bucky an annoyed eye roll and sometimes a punch. You could tell Bucky was a stand-up guy by the fact that he usually let Steve land those.

In the army, of course, Bucky had picked up a plethora of new lines. When he would try them out on Steve, sitting around a campfire with the other Commandos, they would all join in, trying to outdo each other, until the group was in stitches.

He shakes his head sharply to snap himself out of it and finishes getting dressed, rooting around in his closet and pulling out a new set of sheets, tossing them on his bed. He'll make it later, he's hungry right now.

Taking the stairs down two at a time, Steve tries to think happier thoughts, not wanting to bring anybody down, if indeed there still is anyone in the kitchen.

As it turns out, Clint is in the kitchen, leaning against the side of the fridge, apparently conversing with JARVIS.

He stops talking mid-sentence and turns to face Steve, smiling at him.

"Go on and eat, and then you and me, we're gonna go out for a while."

That's surprising, but Steve supposes that he doesn't have much else to do. He'd sparred with Clint yesterday morning and then spent most of the rest of the day breaking in a new sketchbook.

It would probably be good to get out and have some fun.

So Steve checks the contents of the microwave (Clint's hit on the exact right portion size), turns it on, and goes to pour himself a cup of orange juice, only to have Clint hand him one.

"Thanks," Steve says, and takes a drink, leaning against the counter.

When the microwave dings, he takes his food out and tears the biscuits apart, putting the sausage patties inside and wolfing them down.

"You like, hungry or something?" Clint asks, laughing.

"Shut up," Steve tries to say around a mouthful of food. It doesn't come out that way, though, and Clint just chuckles harder, using one arm to hold himself up on the counter.

He eventually quiets, and Steve finishes his breakfast, washing his dishes by hand quickly, and then looks at Clint.

"Where are we going?"

"Out. You'll see. And you'll need shoes."

"See you downstairs, then?"

"Sure thing," Clint answers.

* * *

Clint's pacing in the lobby when Steve finally arrives (one of his shoes had somehow wound up under all of his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper; he has no idea how that happened).

"Sorry, couldn't find my other shoe," Steve explains, pushing his hair back out of his face with one hand.

"Finally," Clint huffs, apparently uninterested in an explanation. He reaches out to grab Steve's upper arm, pulling him toward the front door.

Surprised, Steve allows himself to be tugged (Clint couldn't move him otherwise—they'd tested that once, him and Bucky and a few of the other guys, no matter how many people yanked, Steve didn't move unless he wanted to).

They are a block down the street before Clint lets Steve's arm go, and then it's only to ask, "So, what's with the long face?"

"I'm fine," Steve deflects.

"Bullshit. Now are you gonna say something or do I have to pull it out of you? Because I've got a damn good guess."

"And what would that be?" Steve's being coy, he knows it, but riling up Clint a little is kind of fun in a way. And maybe if he gets worked up, Clint will say where they're going. Surprises aren't Steve's favorite thing ever, but he can live with them if he has to.

"I saw the fucked up sheets on your chair this morning, and dude, if you _weren't_ angsty and broody after everything you've been through, then I would be thinking that you had some problems."

"Adjusting to things is challenging," Steve hedges.

Clint snorts, "You're telling me. I can't even look at myself in the mirror some days, knowing I was responsible for people's deaths."

"That why your hair's so messed up?" Steve tries for a joke, and it works; Clint barks a laugh.

"My hair's naturally like this, asshole, you're just jealous that yours doesn't do this."

"Hardly."

"But you're fucked up, too, I know."

Steve's not sure how he feels about Clint making such a matter of fact statement without much proof, but he supposes that his periods of withdrawal and general bad attitude at times make it pretty obvious that he's been having a rough time.

"You said 'too.' Want to talk about it?" Steve offers. He'd always been told he was a good listener, and he guesses it's true.

"Just, god, the main structure in my life is gone, and now Natasha's got herself a boyfriend and she's not there every second like she used to be," he bumps Steve's arm and turns the corner. "And I feel like a dick and a jealous one to boot, but I _am_ jealous."

"Of her or of Tony?" Steve asks. Truth be told, he's a little surprised that Clint's opened up like this. He didn't think he was _that_ good.

"Stark. Her, a little bit. She's just able to keep going, make a life for herself, and I don't seem to be able to get over having Larry in my head."

"Clint, I think you've made a lot of progress from where you were right after the battle. We've all noticed. Remember, you shut yourself up in your room, then, and wouldn't come out for anyone; Natasha had to bring you food?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"And then when Loki came, you didn't want him around, but you made the effort to keep coming out of your room for meals and such, and now you two are friends; I saw you coming back from lunch together yesterday. So don't tell me that you aren't moving on because that's just not true."

"Got a lot of experience with motivational speeches, do you?" Clint snarks, almost like it's an instinct.

Bucky used to do the same thing when he was irritated, so Steve knows better than to be bothered by it. He's a convenient target, that's all.

And because Clint's been opening up to him and Steve wants to encourage that, he offers, "Never thought I could like guys until I woke up here and saw that it was normal."

"Wait, what?" Clint's shocked.

"Yeah, I didn't want to play into the idea that I was so scrawny that I had to be a homosexual."

"Gay, Steve, the word is gay."

"...I had to be _gay_. So I basically just censored myself, I guess? But having Bucky for a best friend helped, he flirted as bad as Tony."

A second later Steve realizes that Clint's best friend is dating said flirtatious man, and he hurries to add, "Not that he still does or anything. I just... I asked about Howard when I was being 're-educated' and they showed me a lot of video of Tony."

"His glory years, I'm guessing."

"Probably."

"So, what, you're gay?"

It is still striking how easily that question is asked, and it startles Steve into laughter for a moment.

"No, I don't think so. I think the word for it is bisexual?"

"That would probably be it. Guys and gals, right?"

"Uh huh," Steve agrees, thinking about Peggy.

"This is probably the right time to say that I'm gay, then," Clint says easily. "But it's not exactly something I want to have spread around, you know?"

"Me either. Don't worry. Loose lips sink ships."

"Did you just make a fucking World War Two joke?" Clint snorts.

"Suppose so. Are we going to walk all day or did you have a destination in mind?"

"No, we'll be there, soon."

Steve hears the distinctive sound of a cell phone vibrating, and Clint pulls his out of his pocket, answering.

"Hey, Tasha. ...No, he's with me. We'll be back in a bit. ...Okay, then, have fun."

He hangs up and turns to Steve, informing him unnecessarily, "That was Nat. They were wondering where you were, dunno why they didn't just ask JARVIS."

Clint speeds up a bit then, but Steve has no trouble keeping up, having shortened his stride to match Clint's when they first started walking.

Pointing dramatically, Clint declares, "We're here."

It's the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Steve's surprised. "Didn't really think this was your scene."

"It's not, really, but you needed some cheering up, and besides, nothing can be worse than the time I had to go undercover as this, like, antique book enthusiast. _So _much reading and hanging around in stuffy old rooms with dusty books."

Inside, Clint pulls out his wallet to pay for their admission and won't let Steve even attempt to offer, saying, "You can buy me lunch later or something, now come on already, Rogers."

It's almost overwhelming, but Steve is enjoying himself, hurrying from display to display, lingering over some of his favorite pieces.

Clint seems content to trail after him and offer a snide comment here and there ("She really likes green, doesn't she?" or "How is that even real?").

Steve's happy here; he doesn't have to think about anything else except the art, and he wanders from room to room for what feels like hours.

And is, if the way his stomach rumbles shortly is any indication.

Laughing, Clint jerks a thumb over his shoulder, "Let's go, big guy, there's supposed to be a great deli around the corner. JARVIS said they had four stars or some shit."

Heading towards the exit, a young couple attracts their attention. One of the young women asks, "Aren't you Captain America? I saw you on TV."

"Steve Rogers, nice to meet you," is Steve's response, putting his hand out to shake.

"Jess Miller, and this is Linda White." She shakes Steve's hand enthusiastically, and it reminds Steve of all the times he went out after a show to hold babies and make like a politician with the crowds.

Blinking, he sees Clint shaking the second young woman's hand, smiling uncomfortably at the attention when she's pretty clearly more focused on Steve.

"It was nice to meet you," Steve decides to rescue him, "But we've got an engagement to get to, if you'll excuse us."

Ducking his head, he starts for the exit again and Clint follows.

"That wasn't so bad," Clint says once they're definitely out of earshot. "Couple of kids recognized Loki yesterday, hardly seemed to care about me at all."

"Was he okay with it?"

"Yeah, he apparently likes kids or some shit."

Clint seems a little bothered by the lack of attention, for all that he tries to hide it, and Steve makes a mental note to talk to somebody about that, see if there's anything they can do. Clint's just as important a team member as the rest of them, and he should get an equal share of the recognition, although Steve recognizes that's unlikely to happen.

"So where's this wonderful deli you were telling me about? I'm so hungry I could eat one of Tony's suits."

"That would almost definitely piss him off," Clint snickers, a smile back on his face. "But it's right over here, I think, come on."

They find the place easily enough and order quickly, Steve shouldering Clint out of the way to pay for their food, giving him his best stern look when it seems that Clint is about to protest.

It's only fair that he pays, anyway, because Steve's ordered three sandwiches and these modern prices seem ridiculously high to him.

But he's set for life or so the SHIELD accountant told him, giving him his new bankbook and teaching him how to work a debit card.

Steve prefers to use cash, the immediacy of it, but he usually carries the small rectangle of plastic around with him in case of emergency.

It's routine, having something with him in case of emergency, familiar, comforting.

The ceiling fan is whirring lazily inside the deli and there's an empty table by the window, so they sit there and eat, tucking into their food in a companionable silence.

Steve eats his three sandwiches in the time that it takes Clint to eat his and half of his bag of chips.

Curiously, Steve reaches out to turn the chip bag around so that he can read the label. Such bright colors on ordinary objects probably will never cease to amaze him, and Clint takes the bag back, dumping a few out on the empty wrapper in front of Steve.

"Here, try a few."

Steve does, cautiously, and is pleasantly surprised by the initial burst of cheese on his tongue before he makes a face.

Shoving the wrapper at Clint, he explains, "Too powdery."

"Figured. Have to get you to try corn chips at some point; that's probably more your speed. You through eating or are you still hungry?"

Steve is good (for now at least), and he says so.

"M'kay, why don't we head back?"

"Don't you want to finish those?" Steve asks, pointing.

"I can eat and walk, c'mon."

Since Clint's eating, Steve doesn't want to make him talk, and so they're over halfway back to the Tower (his photographic memory does odd things—memorizes routes—even when he is not necessarily paying attention to the details) before Clint breaks the silence.

"Feeling better than you were this morning?"

"Sure am, thanks, Clint."

"No problem, what're friends for?"

And then a moment later, Clint asks, "You ever played video games?"

"I watched Thor teach Loki but I didn't play myself, so no."

"Awesome, wanna learn?"

And Steve doesn't have any plans, so he agrees, and they hurry back to the Tower to get started.

* * *

After they've been playing a game called 'Mario Kart' for a few hours, Darcy comes out to join them, and Steve, still learning, willingly surrenders his controller so he can watch her play with Clint.

She beats him twice, so Clint wrestles the Wii remote out of her hands and passes it back to Steve, whining about how that just wasn't cool.

Darcy allows him to take the remote away, immediately getting up and going to fish around under the TV, emerging victorious with another controller and flopping back on the couch, hitting Clint with her shoulder.

"Three players?" she asks, and Clint huffs exaggeratedly but starts to change the settings.

While he does that, Darcy leans over to show Steve a shortcut, using her hair to hide the movements from Clint.

The next round, they both beat Clint.

He makes a big production of things and soon insists on changing the game to something he's better at. It can't be played by three people though, and Steve goes to get up, out of their way, only to have Darcy drop a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

"I just came in here for a few minutes, I need to go on and get back to work."

"What're you doing?" Steve wants to know.

"Trying to figure out which one of you knuckleheads should go on TV next. My list's getting pretty short."

"Hey, Clint, I'll be back in a minute." Steve takes Darcy's arm and all but drags her from the room, out of earshot of Clint. "Can you do Clint? I think it might be good for him."

"I can't promise for sure, but I can try, dude."

"That's all I'm asking, thanks, Darcy!"

Smiling, Steve hurries back into the living room. He pays attention to Clint's lecture on the new game, and well, if Steve doesn't play as well as he could, nobody will know the difference. It makes Clint happy to win and Steve's ego doesn't need stroking.

* * *

A couple hours later, Natasha breezes into the room and Clint pauses the game, "What's up, Nat?"

"We're on dinner duty tonight, c'mon."

Clint rolls his eyes at Steve but obediently gets up, turning the game off, going to follow his friend into the kitchen.

"Hey, JARVIS, let me know when they're almost through cooking dinner?" Steve asks. He knows better than to go offer his help. Those two need some time together, he knows.

And Steve's been accused of doing too much around the Tower and told to back off more than once. He can take a hint.

So he goes up to his room and puts the new sheets on his bed carefully, folding the corners with habitual military precision, smoothing a hand over the top once it's done.

Then he goes out to inspect the ruined sheets and rip them into serviceable rags, small enough but not too small.

That takes a few minutes, and then he bundles them into his arms and goes to the stairs, heading up to Tony's workshop.

Steve arrives at the glass-fronted door and realizes that maybe he should have asked JARVIS before coming up here, because Tony's mostly visible, lying on his back under a giant piece of equipment, what looks like an engine on a work-up of some sort.

But he seems occupied and Steve doesn't want to take these rags back down to his room, so he quietly eases the door open and winces at the volume of the music that suddenly pours out into the hall.

That will help, though, and he walks softly over to the corner where he usually leaves his torn sheets and drops the bundle on the pile, turning to leave.

He's almost out the door when the music cuts off abruptly and Tony's voice, oddly muffled, says, "Hey, Steve. What's up?"

"Uh, dinner's almost ready. I just wanted to let you know."

"You couldn't have asked JARVIS? Never mind, you got a minute?"

"Yeah, do you need something?"

"Give me a hand out from under here? My back's cramped up."

Steve walks over and inspects the situation before sliding one hand down under the edge of the low-slung table and lifting, reaching down to grab Tony's upper arm with the other hand.

"Easy there," Tony breathes, but he moves out and uses Steve's arm as leverage to pull himself into a sitting position.

Looking at Steve, still holding up the table, Tony remarks, "Must come in handy, huh? Thanks."

"I suppose. See you down at dinner in a few?"

"Sure thing, just let me get cleaned up."

Tony's arms are covered in grease and there are several smudges across his face.

Steve looks down at his hands, and sure enough, they are streaked in grease from touching the table and from Tony.

Tony notices his line of sight and says, "Just grab a rag off that pile and scrub for a minute, then come on over here and I've got something that'll get that off, no problem."

Steve watches his face, but Tony doesn't seem to notice that the rag pile has suddenly doubled in size, and so Steve does as he's instructed quickly, not wanting to draw Tony's attention to anything being different.

The degreasing soap does work well, after Tony's told Steve, "No, no, no, use twice as much as you think you'll need, that's how you're _supposed_ to do it."

With clean hands, Steve makes his way out of Tony's lab. He figures that maybe he ought to go find the rest of the team for dinner since he's apparently already started rounding people up, and he asks JARVIS, "Where's everyone else? And about how much longer should dinner be?"

"Ms. Lewis is in her room on the 74th floor, and Master Loki has already gone to the kitchen to offer his assistance. Dr. Banner and Master Thor are in Dr. Banner's room."

"Okay, thanks, JARVIS."

"However, I would advise against going to retrieve them yourself, Captain Rogers."

"Wh— _Oh_. Thanks for the warning, I'll just go get Darcy. And dinner?"

"It should be ready shortly, Captain Rogers."

"Do you think you can quit calling me 'Captain,' please? I know you've stopped calling Clint and Natasha 'Agent.'"

"Of course, sir, would you prefer 'Mr. Rogers?'"

"That's fine, thanks, JARVIS."

"Certainly, Mr. Rogers."

Steve goes to get Darcy, who looks relieved for an excuse to get away from the laptop and pile of papers on her bed.

"Don't you have an office or something?" Steve inquires.

"No, it's cool. I'm fine like this."

"Are you sure? I know Tony's got a spare room and desk around here somewhere."

"Well, it might be better; my back's kind of hurting from leaning over for hours today."

"Why don't you ask him tonight, then?"

"Can you? I'd just...rather not."

That's a little odd, but then, Darcy seems to be full of quirks. So Steve agrees, "If you want."

"I do. Oh, I'm gonna announce it at dinner tonight, but since you asked, I figure maybe you should be the first—well, second really, Natasha knows—to know that I did get Clint an interview for later this week."

"That's great, Darcy, thanks!"

"Not a problem. You kind of solved my problem, trying to decide who was next. Thor really doesn't want to do his until he can acknowledge that he's dating Bruce, and we've been trying to hold off on Loki's for the same reason that we're not saying anything about Thor and Bruce yet, because people still aren't their biggest fans. So putting Clint first does help me."

"How much longer do you think it will be? I heard that Clint went out with Loki yesterday and it wasn't a big problem, and Bruce's been going out to volunteer pretty much regularly and I haven't heard about a problem."

"I'm thinking we're going to go for the next week or two. That's what I want anyway. And ideally we can get Thor and Loki to do the same interview so that they can help each other."

She doesn't say which of them she thinks might need the support more, and Steve's not certain about that either.

"Well, I sure am grateful for all that you're doing, Darcy."

"It's not a problem. I've got the next month or so off anyway before I go back to school."

"You're at Culver University, aren't you? Isn't that where Bruce's, uh, accident, happened?"

"Yeah, kinda funny isn't it? The coincidence, I mean. I wasn't there yet when it happened, still in grand ol' high school, but it's all over campus."

"It's a small world, I guess."

"Why's the world small?" Clint asks as they step into the kitchen. "And no, Steve, I don't need any help."

Steve shuffles back a step, and Darcy explains, "How I was at Culver for school and that's where Bruce had his 'accident.'" The way she speaks makes the air quotes clear.

"What about Bruce?" Tony queries, and he's getting the explanation when Thor and Bruce step into the kitchen, prompting Natasha to turn from her place on the stove and yell, "Everybody out unless you're helping!"

Tony gives her a quick kiss before following the rest of them out, Steve notices, and he smiles to himself, seeing his teammates happy.

Dinner's on the table soon, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. "Clint's idea," Natasha explains, rolling her eyes.

Clint, carrying a bag of Goldfish, only grins in response.

They all dig in, and after the initial scramble for food is over, Darcy announces, "Clint, you're up next for an interview."

"Okay," he says through a mouthful of food and Natasha reaches over to smack the back of his head.

"If we're doing announcements, I got a call from Director Hill today. She wants to meet with us at some point, but her schedule's still pretty crazy," Tony declares.

"So you don't have a definite date yet?" Darcy asks, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and typing something in.

"Nah, she just wanted to let us know that she needed a meeting."

"That was kind of her," Loki says.

"Sure different than how Fury ran things," Natasha comments under her breath.

They finish dinner without incident, and Darcy goes in to wash the dishes with Tony (Steve catches his arm on the way out and asks about an office for Darcy; Tony says he'll talk to her and get something set up).

Steve's fingers are itching for a pencil, so he excuses himself up to his room and sketches for an hour before calling it a night and going to bed, fairly content.

* * *

**Reviews make my day...**


	3. Blunt

**Chapter title credit goes to my fuckawesome beta, dysprositos, who rocks my socks.**

* * *

When Clint took Steve to the Met, he wasn't necessarily trying to do anything except cheer Steve up. Ripping the fucking sheets off his bed couldn't have been fun.

And then the next day, when he took Steve to the zoo, that was because he was bored. Or so he told himself. Right.

"_Hey, JARVIS, who's here right now?"_

"_Master Loki and Ms. Lewis are watching a film together, and Mr. Rogers is in his room sketching, Mr. Barton."_

"_Cool. Hey, can you tell him I'm coming up?"_

"_Certainly, Mr. Barton."_

_Clint shoved his feet into his sneakers, stuck a pair of sunglasses in__to__ the neck of his shirt, and grabbed a baseball cap. After a moment of thought, he grabbed another, figuring that Steve probably didn't have one. __And it wasn't worth much as a disguise, but still._

_In Steve's room, he found Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, his closed sketchbook at his side, presumably waiting for Clint __to show._

_Without preamble, Clint proposed,__ "Wanna go to the zoo, Steve?"_

"_Uh, sure thing. Give me a couple minutes __to get ready__."_

_Steve got up and started to head to the other room; Clint called after him, "Hey, do you mind if I look at your sketchbook?"_

"_Go ahead," Steve returned over a shoulder._

_Picking it up, Clint flopped down onto Steve's bed and flipped through the pages. The first few were group pictures, a bunch of laughing men __against various roughly sketched backgrounds__, often with a woman standing off to the side seeming amused by their antics._

_Clint guessed that they were the Howling Commandos, which would of course make the woman Agent Peggy Carter, who had written most of the biography on Steve__ in his official file._

_And the man standing next to Steve, straining slightly __on his tiptoes __to throw an arm over his shoulders, would then be Bucky Barnes._

_Steve had put a lot of detail and effort into the __smiling __faces, and just flipping through the sketches, Clint could get a feel for the personality of the team. __It looked like they __had__ all got__ten__ along well._

_He turned a page, and found his own face staring back at him, mid-laugh. Natasha stood next to him, imperious__,__ but the skin around her eyes was crinkling in what was often her version of a laugh._

_Clint flipped a few more pages and marveled at the pictures of his other teammates. Steve was seriously talented, and when he came out, shoes on and ready, Clint told him so._

"_Thanks, Clint. I never really took lessons or anything."_

"_So you're self-taught, that just makes it more awesome."_

_Clint pulled the extra baseball cap out of his pocket and tossed it to Steve, "You'll probably want that. Got any sunglasses?" __Steve did._

_And thus attired, they headed out, Clint leading the way to the subway. He__'__d looked up the route the day before,__ when he'd been__ debating whether to take Steve to the Met or the zoo__. __Ultimately, he'd__ chosen the art museum, __so today it was going to be the zoo._

_Steve hadn't been to the zoo since waking up, and he seemed to be really enjoying himself. They took a break for lunch at the burger place within the zoo grounds, and Steve chattered on in between bites._

_Clint found himself wishing that he'd thought to bring a camera, __but there was an easy solution for that problem. __H__e snarfed the rest of his burger and told Steve he'd be right back, heading next door to the gift shop and buying a disposable camera._

_He showed Steve how to work it (those spinny wheels would baffle anyone) and explained how few pictures there were, and then they went back out and spent the whole afternoon walking around, talking a little as they moved between the different areas of the zoo._

_They probably would have stayed longer, but Natasha called and reminded them that it was almost time for dinner. And it was Thor and Bruce's turn to cook, but they were out, too, and not answering their phones; would Clint mind bringing something home?_

_He didn't, and he asked Steve for an opinion on dinner; they decided on Chinese._

_Steve snapped the last two pictures on the camera, and Clint told him that they could drop it off to __have the film__ developed on their way home._

_They got off the subway a stop before where they got on, and Clint took Steve into a drugstore and they handed the camera over to the photo department there._

_And then they picked up Chinese, passing the time while waiting for their (admittedly huge) order to be ready by reading the menu, playing the arcade games in the lobby, and watching the fish in the aquarium._

_Back at the Tower, apparently Thor and Bruce had turned up, apologizing for having forgotten their responsibility for dinner, but Clint told them it wasn't a big deal__. T__he team settled down in front of the TV to watch a movie, breaking their regular dining-room-table routine._

_Later__ that evening, __Clint__ had been lying in bed when he __finally__ realized _holy shit, I've been taking Steve Rogers on fucking dates._ He hardly slept that evening._

So the next day, when he asked Steve to a movie and then dinner, he did it with the realization that it was a date fixed firmly in his mind.

The part where he mentioned that to Steve wasn't quite so clear, though, and so when Natasha cornered him before he left, she had given him an exasperated look and a hint of a lecture.

"_What the hell, Clint, either you tell him it's a date, or I will."_

"_But, Nat!" He didn't even bother to ask her how she knew what was going on, just accepted that she did. __And there was no way he wanted her talking to Steve._

"_No 'buts,' dumbass. Honestly, dating Steve without him realizing it. And you know, he might not be into you. If he isn't, and you want to hit something, you can come find me."_

"_I won't be interrupting anything?" Clint asked worriedly._

"_Nope, Tony's got a conference call tonight so I'm on my own. Bruce and Thor are taking Darcy and Loki to dinner, so other than being on call if that goes south, I'm free."_

"_Thanks, Tasha."_

"_Just tell him already, and don't overthink things, I know you."_

_With those parting words of wisdom, she had left. _

_Clint had taken himself down to the range for a couple hours __after that__, since it was only early afternoon._

_After he'd spent a couple hours in there, he grabbed a quick shower to wash the sweat off and caught himself debating over what to wear, standing in front of the closet._

_So he'd__ told himself he was being ridiculous,__ grabbed a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt__,__ and __took a deep breath__, tugging on his boots and asking, "JARVIS, where's Steve?"_

"_Mr. Rogers is in his room, Mr. Barton. Shall I tell him you're on your way?"_

"_Nah." Clint wasn't sure he could make himself go down the hall, and __the knowledge that__ Steve was waiting for him __would just make__ things worse._

_But he clenched his hands together and forced himself out of his bedroom and down the hall, raising a hand to knock on Steve's door._

"_Come in; it's open!" Steve called, and Clint did._

_Steve was already dressed, it looked like, and sitting on the couch in his living room with a book._

_He put it down after folding the corner over, and asked, "I'm not late, am I? I thought you said we were leaving at 4__:00__?"_

"_No, you're fine. It's just..."_

_There's an awkward silence for a moment before Steve inquired __politely__, "Do you want to sit down?"_

_Clint thought he might fall over soon if he didn't take a seat, so he flopped into a chair and bit his tongue._

_Then he took a deep breath and asked, remarkably calmly (or so he thought), "Steve, uh. Tonight. It's kind of a date. You know?"_

_There, he'd said it._

_For his part, Steve didn't immediately scream and run for the hills like Clint had halfway been expecting._

_Instead, he stated,__ "You asked me on a date. Without actually saying it was a date."_

"_Yeah. Sorry about that."_

"_Don't be, it's fine." __Steve looked calm. Like way too calm._

"_You're serious? I mean, you can totally cancel or whatever, it's really fine. I'll understand."_

"_I don't want to cancel, Clint. I said I would go."_

_Slightly hysterically, Clint said, "But that's the _point_! You don't have to go just because you said 'yes' before you knew it was a date!"_

"_Calm down, Clint. It's fine, honestly. I want to go on a date with you. __I wish you'd said something sooner, sure, but I want to date you. __There, does that help?"_

_Clint was dumbfounded, and he gaped at Steve for a moment before nodding slowly._

"_Okay, then. Now, I kind of want to finish this before we leave. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit, okay?"_

_Obediently, Clint stood and left Steve alone._

_He was shocked that the conversation had gone as well as it had, and well, the whole thing of _Steve Fucking Rogers_ calmly informing Clint that yes, he would like to date him, kind of threw Clint for a loop. A big one._

_So he numbly went downstairs to the lobby and__,__ ignoring the comings and goings of the construction staff (Stark _still_ doesn't have this place fixed?), he paced._

_Until he mentally shook himself and __remembered__ that he had _wanted_ Steve to agree to go out with him, knowing it was a date._

Duh, Barton. Don't be an idiot.

_That made him feel better, and he stopped his frenetic pacing to smooth down his shirt and wait for Steve like an adult._

_And when Steve finally did come down, Clint was able to hold the door for him as they left and Steve's answering grin had made Clint feel really great._

_The movie __was __fun, and in the dark of the theater, Steve had slipped his arm around Clint's shoulders and Clint had reached up to link their fingers together._

_When the lights __came__ up, they'd quickly separated, of course. Dating in the public eye was far from being on Clint's list of things he would enjoy doing, and he suspected it was much the same for Steve._

_Dinner __was__ good, too. They'd been able to talk quietly in the restaurant without anybody paying them much mind. __They talked movies and TV shows (Clint admitted his guilty pleasure was reality TV__—Steve hadn't seen any yet) __and other light stuff, mostly just passing the time.__  
_

And now Clint's lying on his bed, thinking about those two outings in an attempt to take his mind off the interview he's supposed to be giving later this afternoon. He's really anxious, has never done anything like this before.

"Hey, Clint," Steve startles him. Clint yelps in surprise and flails around, trying to not fall off the edge of the bed.

He doesn't succeed, and Steve seems torn between helping him up and laughing at him. In the end, Steve does both, chuckling and offering Clint his hand.

Allowing himself to be heaved up, Clint relaxes. "What's up, Steve?"

"Not much. I thought you might like to go grab lunch? It's a little early, I know, but I wasn't sure when you're supposed to be leaving this afternoon..."

"Uh, sure. Why not?"

"Okay, then. Come on," and Steve grabs Clint's hand to lead him out of the room like it's the most natural thing ever.

"Where are we going?" Clint asks as they step out of the elevator, now carefully maintaining their distance.

"Not too far, just a little sandwich place around the corner."

"You really like sandwiches, huh?"

"Yeah. They're fast. You still haven't said when you're leaving..."

"Um, I'm not really sure, exactly. Darcy said she'd let me know."

"Okay, it's just over there."

They go in and place their orders quickly, grabbing a table by the window.

Clint's fidgety, he knows, but he tries to only jiggle his leg nervously so that Steve won't notice.

But Steve carries their lunch over and sits down, a concerned look on his face. "Clint, are you worried about your interview?"

So much for hiding it. "Yeah, I am."

"You'll do just fine, I'm sure. It wasn't that bad for me, and I was pretty damn worried before, too."

"Tell me what it was like?"

"Well, I got there and they checked me in, but you probably know all of that, didn't you go with Bruce to his interview?"

"Yeah, but they made me wait in the lobby. I didn't actually get to see what went on."

"Okay," Steve bites his lip for a second before continuing, "So after I'd checked in, I went back and they put me in the makeup chair and did that. Wasn't my favorite thing, but it was fine. And then they showed me where I was going to be sitting and the host came out and shook my hand and then it started. Other than the big camera, it's really easy to forget you're on TV; there are so many people around and everything. Lots of bright lights, all that."

"Think I could get away with wearing my sunglasses?"

"Probably not. The main thing is to remember to not show any reactions that you don't want shown on TV."

"That's good to remember. Nat said something about having to suppress murderous urges during hers?"

"She might have. That lady was pretty rude."

"And sexist. Nat doesn't suffer fools lightly."

"I can't imagine that she would."

"Probably a lot like Agent Carter?"

Steve's smile turns nostalgic, and he says, "Yeah, guess so. Natasha didn't impress me quite as much on our first encounter, though. Peggy punched a guy who was being a real jerk to her, laid him out."

"That would make quite an impression."

"She was a great girl. Well, _is_ a great girl."

"Have you seen her?" Clint asks cautiously.

"No, and I don't think I'm going to. I don't know if she even knows I'm alive, and I think I'd like to leave it that way. She's got a life now, maybe even a family."

"That's awfully big of you, Steve."

"Thanks. I just feel like it's better this way, maybe. She moved on; I'm moving on."

Clint wishes they weren't in public right now, because he wants to do something besides nod comfortingly at Steve.

But they are, so he finishes his sandwich and is just about to ask Steve if he wants to go to the ice cream store across the street when his phone buzzes.

He checks the text and then looks up at Steve. "I'm supposed to be leaving in thirty minutes, and Darcy says that I need to change clothes. I'm feeling stalked. Do you think she's spying on me via JARVIS?"

"If she knew what you were wearing and you haven't seen her today, probably."

Clint makes a thoughtful noise. He hadn't seen her today, since she'd been late to breakfast and he'd been through eating quickly, too nervous to sit still for long.

Steve finishes eating and they stand up to go back to the Tower quietly, Clint clinging to the edges of his calm.

* * *

Steve walks Clint to the elevator after he's changed into an outfit that better fits Darcy's specifications (JARVIS had announced out of the blue, "Ms. Lewis much prefers that outfit, Mr. Barton," and Clint had jumped and given the ceiling the middle finger.), and there, Steve pulls Clint in for a tight hug.

"Knock 'em dead," he smiles.

"I'll do my best," Clint replies, and gets onto the elevator.

Steve takes the stairs down to the common level and joins Darcy and Loki in the living room.

"The others will be down eventually," she informs him. "No point in everyone waiting here forever for the show to start."

"Makes sense. Were you two planning on doing anything while you waited, or should I go get started on the popcorn?"

"We were just gonna channel-surf, I think. But I can come help you, no problem."

"It's fine, Darcy. I've got this."

"The program does not begin for another forty-five minutes," Loki states, "So making the popcorn now would be rather unnecessary." He scoots over on the couch, closer to Darcy, making space. "Join us, then?"

"Sure thing," Steve answers, dropping onto the couch next to Loki and crossing his legs.

Darcy hands Loki the remote and he begins to slowly flip through the channels, waiting for their disapproval of the current show before moving on to the next one.

Steve's seen most of the others flip channels much faster than this, but he appreciates Loki's attempt at politeness. And he's more worried about Clint than anything, so not needing to contribute much to the conversation is nice.

He takes this time to reflect a little. Honestly, Steve's a bit surprised at himself—he would have thought that after all of his stress over whether he _could_ like guys or not, finding himself in a relationship with one (because he thinks that's what they're doing) would be hard.

But it isn't.

Steve's happy, and as much as it's his first relationship and he doesn't know quite how things work, he's certain that they are doing well.

So, a bit later, he gets up to go make the popcorn. As soon as the microwave dings, indicating that the first bag is done, Tony appears in the kitchen to snatch it from him like he was summoned.

Steve rolls his eyes but lets Tony walk away with the bag.

Bruce appears to retrieve the second bag, but he has the courtesy to ask before taking it.

After a few more bags, Steve's all done, and he carries them out to the living room and passes them out, keeping one bag for himself.

All of the possible seating appears to be taken up; Tony and Natasha are sharing a chair and Thor's sitting in the other, Bruce on the couch with Loki and Darcy (who've scooted so that he can sit next to her), so Steve sits on the floor and opens his bag of popcorn, eating a couple handfuls and focusing on the muted television.

Steve is pretty sure that it's on the correct show but apparently Clint isn't the first guest, since everyone is still chatting and nobody's paying much attention to the TV.

So Steve's the only one watching, and thus he's the one to say, "Quiet! Whoever has the remote, turn up the sound!" It's kind of satisfying, being the one to hush the others.

Darcy does, fumbling to point the control at the screen as Clint walks out, and the whole room goes silent, attentive.

Steve takes a brief moment to smirk about their antics before focusing on the screen, and Clint, who is walking out to shake the host's hand and take his seat.

The host blathers on, making introductions, and Clint seems uncomfortable.

He's not smiling, and Steve internally wishes that Clint would.

The questioning begins, and Clint still seems ill-at-ease, turning too much to face the host, forcing the cameraman to circle around to get a clear shot of Clint's face.

'_How are you today?'_ the host asks after Clint's identity has been established, probably attempting to break the ice.

'_I'm fine, thanks. How are you?'_

'_I'm doing just fine, Mr. Barton. Or may I call you Clint?'_

'_Clint's fine.'_

There's an awkward pause for a moment before the host picks up, _'And what do you think about living in Stark Tower? Do you like it there?'_

'_I do, yeah. It's nice hanging out with my...friends.'_

'_I understand you all eat most of your meals together; that must foster a real sense of camaraderie and teamwork.'_

'_I guess it does.'__  
_

'_And I also understand that your best friend, Natalie Rushman, is dating Tony Stark. What are your opinions on this? Jealous?'_

Natasha's sigh is loud and annoyed; Steve doesn't blame her.

Clint's answer is quick and clear, _'Hell no, I'm not jealous. Nat's my sister for all intents and purposes, and Stark, uh, Tony makes her happy. I'm glad for her.'_

'_That's a very generous position.'_

'_It's not generous at all, it's just basic human kindness.' _Clint shuts his eyes for a moment, probably resisting the urge to roll them.

'_What does your family think about you being an Avenger? We've attempted to look you up, but all records of a "Clinton Barton" stop at a very young age.'_

"That's not creepy at all," Tony mutters.

'_They don't exactly keep up with stuff like that where I came from. I was a carnie for a while, grew up there. And the government got wind of my talent with a bow and arrow and came calling. I had no reason to say no, there was nobody there for me, so I went.'_

'_And were you happy with your job?'_

'_I was.'_

'_Wasn't it lonely, though? You seem to prefer where you are now, living with your teammates, to being alone, but correct me if I'm wrong.'_

'_You're not, I do like living with other people. And yeah, working for the government was a little lonely, but I brought Nat in eventually, and she and I were close. __Are close.__ We also had a great handler.'_

'_Had?'_

'_He was killed in the initial wave of the attack by the Chitauri by the guy posing as Loki.'_ And that's not true at all. Larry did stab Coulson, but it was ex-Director Fury who murdered him in cold blood. Steve can pretty easily see why Clint wouldn't be saying that on television, though.

Things are going better, Clint seems to be relaxing some, even smiling a little, Steve notices. So of course that's when the shit hits the fan.

The host waves a hand to indicate the screen behind her, which shows security footage of Clint with bright, icy blue eyes. That would a big leak if SHIELD provided it, so it's probably from when Clint was with Larry, outside of SHIELD's reach.

'_Can you explain this to the audience, Clint? They might not be able to see so well, but,'_ and the host leans in close to Clint's face; he blinks in surprise and the host adds, _'Your eyes aren't that color now.'_

'_The Chitauri sorcerer had a scepter that was able to put the people he touched it with under a form of mind control. The outward symptom of that was eyes that color,' _Clint waves his hand at the screen. This answer sounds rehearsed, he probably had discussed it with Darcy and maybe some of the others first, trying to figure what to say and what to keep under wraps.

'_Mind control?'_

'_Yeah. Wasn't fun, lemme tell you.'_

Thankfully, the host seems to understand that Clint is done talking about that, and moves on, changing the picture. Internally, Steve groans.

'_So, Clint, we have some more pictures for you.'_

He turns to look and is confronted with a slideshow of his outings with Steve over the last few days. Steve makes a mental note to ask Thor and Bruce how they avoid the paparazzi, as they seem particularly adept at it.

'_Nice, real good skill with a telephoto lens.'_

'_Thanks, I'll be sure to pass that on. But what can you tell me about those? Are you in a romantic relationship with Captain America?'_

'_No, I'm not.'_ Steve realizes with a jolt that Clint is not even lying, that he doesn't see himself as dating Captain America, but just plain Steve. That makes him smile, although he's careful to conceal his reaction. They still haven't told the others that they're dating, although Natasha probably knows. Not much gets by her, it would seem.

'_So you spend so much time with _all _of your friends like this?' _Talk about pushy.

'_Yeah, but Steve and I were wanting to go out. Got a little sick of our own cooking,'_ he tries for a joke, and mostly succeeds, the studio audience laughing along with him.

'_But would you consider dating him?'_

'_Date Captain America? No way, he's a legend. Doesn't exist.'_ A beat later, he adds, blunt, _'Are you trying to ascertain my sexual orientation?'__  
_

The host has the decency to look abashed. _'I am.'_

Equally as blunt as before, _'I'm gay.'_

'_Has that been a problem for you?'_

'_No, it hasn't.' _He doesn't seem inclined to elaborate.

'_Well, thank you for coming in today, Clint.'_

'_Thanks for having me.'_

The show goes to commercial then, and Darcy mutes the TV.

"Well, that didn't go so bad. Looks optimistic for us to announce Thor and Bruce's relationship, if Clint saying he was gay went over that well."

"That's good news!" Thor enthuses, but when Steve turns to look at Bruce, he looks less pleased.

"Hold on, don't you think we're forgetting something? Dude, _are_ you dating him?" Count on Tony to ask the question Steve doesn't want to answer.

"Butt out, Tony," Natasha says before Steve can answer, and there's no way to shoot her a grateful look without Tony seeing it, but Steve will thank her later in private.

Steve stands and starts collecting empty popcorn bags to take to the kitchen, listening as people resume their earlier conversations around him. It's as good an excuse as any to leave before people ask more questions.

After he's put everything away, he heads to his room, but when he passes through the living room again, he sees that Thor isn't in there anymore.

Well, no time like the present. Once he's out of earshot, Steve asks, "JARVIS, where's Thor?"

"Master Thor is currently in his room."

That would be Bruce's room, down the hall from Steve's, so he ascends the stairs and goes to knock on the door.

Thor answers, and Steve shuffles his feet a little, wondering what the best way to phrase this is.

"Would you like to come in?" Thor finally inquires after a silent staring contest.

"Uh, sure. If it's not a problem."

Steve follows Thor inside and sits on the couch as Thor indicates.

"I want to ask you something, but um, can you keep a secret, first?"

"As long as it is not harmful, of course," Thor smiles amicably.

"The thing is, I _am_ dating Clint. And I was wondering how you avoid all the paparazzi when you and Bruce go out? Because we'd kind of like to keep it to ourselves for a while longer, I think."

Thor takes this in stride and answers, "Bruce and I tend to go to isolated areas. We also enjoy eating at restaurants where the owners probably do not know who we are, nor do they care. And we tend to leave and arrive separately, after they almost caught us the night before we did the press conference, you remember?"

"Yeah. And that all makes a lot of sense, thanks, Thor."

"It's no problem, Steve. I do not understand the scrutiny we are subjected to in this realm; in Asgard, even though we are royal, we are free to live our lives privately as long as we do not bring dishonor to the family name."

"I don't get it either, honestly, Thor. But thanks, I appreciate it. And uh, it's a secret right now, okay?"

"I can understand that."

"See you at dinner, then, Thor."

"It is your turn to cook tonight, is it not?"

"Yeah, I've been planning to try making lasagna."

"I look forward to it."

Steve nods, and gets up to leave. Down the hall in his room, he finds the cookbook he had been flipping through the day before and sets it on the table where he can easily grab it on his way out.

Then he asks, "JARVIS, will you let me know when Clint gets back? And tell him I'd like to see him?"

"Of course, Mr. Rogers."

"Thanks."

That taken care of, Steve picks up his sketchbook and flips to a blank page, just doodling while his mind wanders. It's a luxury he never could have afforded when he was younger, when paper was so scarce and expensive. Then, he would draw on scraps and pieces, but now he can just go around the corner and buy a new sketchbook whenever he needs one. It's definitely nice.

Not too much later, there's a knock on his door.

"Come in!"

Clint does, shutting the door behind him and coming over to hand Steve a bulky envelope. "Picked up your pictures from the zoo on my way home."

"Thanks, Clint! Are you okay? That was kind of harsh."

"I'm good. There's no getting around it—what my body did was pretty awful—but I did everything I could to stop it and _it wasn't me_."

"I'm glad you understand that."

"I have my moments, but Tasha's been good about knocking sense back into me."

"It's good that you two have each other. A good friend is always a great thing to have."

"And, uh, we hadn't talked about privacy, so I hope I said the right thing about us. Didn't think you wanted to be outed like that."

Steve doesn't. "Yeah. Just keep it to ourselves, well, almost to ourselves, for now. I told Thor because I asked him how to avoid the paparazzi since he and Bruce almost never seem to be photographed. But I told him it was a secret. And I figure Natasha knows."

"She does. And that's cool; I'm glad we're on the same page." Clint reaches over to put his hand on Steve's arm. "Speaking of photos, why don't you look at yours?"

Steve does, and they've almost all come out well.

He and Clint look over them for a while before Steve needs to go start on dinner. He wants to make sure that he has plenty of time in case something goes wrong.

Clint offers to come help, but Steve wants to do it on his own, so he suggests that Clint go find Natasha. Maybe some mutual griping about the host's inappropriateness will do them both good.

So Steve makes the lasagna, and it turns out well. The whole thing is eaten that evening, as is the garlic bread he makes and the bagged salad he washes and puts in a bowl.

He goes to bed content that evening, planning to take Clint out again the next day to try out Thor's suggestions.

* * *

**The host is entirely fictitious.**

**Thanks to all my readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers! Y'all's support means a lot to me.**


	4. Tension

**Y'all should all know that my beta, dysprositos, is the best ever by now. Massive thanks to her for listening to my whining and providing helpful character suggestions and just generally being awesome.**

* * *

Except the next day, Steve doesn't get the opportunity to take Clint out because he's woken early by JARVIS blaring an alarm before he can even actuate any plans.

Regretfully, JARVIS says, "Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark requests that I awaken all residents. He has been contacted by Director Hill and would like everyone to meet in the 67th floor living room."

"I'll be there in a minute," Steve replies, instantly awake.

He tosses the covers off (carefully) and stands up, grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he's dressed and taking the stairs down two at a time to the common floor.

Tony pokes his head out of the kitchen and calls, "Hey, dude, you're the first one down. Want some coffee?"

Steve sticks his head in the living room on his way to Tony, an ingrained response to always double-check; no one's in there.

"Uh, sure. What's going on, Tony?" JARVIS had seemed urgent but Tony's looking relaxed, hovering over the coffee maker, cup in hand.

"Shit, J, I told you not to alarm everyone! It's not an emergency, but Hill's schedule cleared up unexpectedly and she wants to meet with us in..."

"Ninety-seven minutes, sir," JARVIS supplies.

"That. So, I got everyone up."

"Does she want to meet with the whole team? Where?"

"Yes, and at their New York headquarters. She said Natasha and Clint would know where, didn't want to say so over the phone. Or to me."

"They're still very secretive about their privacy, aren't they?" Steve asks rhetorically, filling himself a cup of coffee and knocking half of it back in one gulp.

Tony shudders, "I don't understand how you can drink that shit black."

"I was in the army, this is a luxury compared to what I was used to, Tony. Is everyone up?"

"Yeah, mom, everyone's up, JARVIS reported that a few minutes ago."

"Okay, then, maybe we should get started on breakfast."

"Got it covered," Tony grins and reaches into a cabinet behind him, pulling out two boxes of donuts.

"Where'd those come from?" Steve inquires, moving over to grab himself a couple. They aren't his first choice of breakfast, but he does like them. And not cooking probably means that they'll be able to move out faster.

"Fresh batch of groceries was delivered yesterday, and I put in a request. Been eating so damn much healthy shit that I'm gonna forget what sugar tastes like."

"It's good for you, Tony," Natasha interjects, breezing into the kitchen to give Tony a kiss and, despite her proclamation, grab herself a chocolate donut. Tony rolls his eyes and plays like he's going to hold the box out of her reach; she jabs him in the ribs and grabs her spoils, turning calmly, "Morning, Steve."

"Natasha," he nods. He still owes her a thank you for distracting Tony the day before so he didn't hound Steve about his suspected relationship with Clint.

And speak of the devil, because Clint is the next one into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee and two donuts and practically inhaling them, they're gone so quickly. He gets a refill and a third donut, eating it more slowly. When Tony's looking the other way, Clint flashes Steve a quick grin, which he returns.

Thor and Bruce are the next ones down. They each grab some donuts, leaning against a countertop to eat, but forgo the coffee.

The kitchen's getting crowded, and Steve maneuvers around Thor and Bruce to grab the box that still contains donuts.

Its removal is protested, but Steve reassures the others, "Let's move this into the living room, we can hardly breathe in here."

There, he puts the box on the table and leans against the wall. Natasha swats Tony's hand when he goes for another donut, "Save some for Darcy and Loki, Tony, you're not going to be able to get off the ground if you eat any more."

"I was going to give it to you, Romanoff, shit."

"Sorry," she mumbles, and Steve tries to avert his eyes without seeming rude. They land on Clint, who makes eye contact and rolls his eyes, jerking his head to indicate Tony and Natasha.

Thor and Bruce are quiet, something that Steve has come to expect from them.

Loki arrives before Darcy, but just barely. They take the remaining donuts and sit down, briefly greeting Thor and Bruce.

"What's going on, Tony?" Darcy asks around a mouthful of donut, her eyes on her lap.

"Hill called, woke me up. Had an unexpected opening in her schedule and wanted to meet with us, remember I told you that? So I said we could meet." A beat later, he adds, "Hope that doesn't fuck with anyone's plans, sorry."

Nobody says anything, so Tony continues, "She wants us to come to their HQ here in town, said you two'd know where that was. And, uh, J, how long now?"

"Eighty-five minutes, sir."

"Yeah."

"Are we," Loki waves a hand between himself and Darcy, "included in this meeting?"

Steve can answer that. Adamantly, he says, "Yes, you are. You're both part of the team. Now. Tony, thanks for setting this up, I appreciate it. Clint, Natasha, about how long are we going to need to get to wherever it is that we're going?"

"I'd say probably forty-five minutes, wouldn't you, Nat?"

"Sure."

"Okay, let's leave in twenty minutes, then," Steve decides. "It's a business meeting, right, Tony?"

"That's what she said."

"So no need for gear or anything," Steve confirms. "Meet you in the parking garage then."

He stands to leave, and the others follow, collecting the detritus from their breakfast.

Steve slips up to Clint's room, and the archer (who had come to breakfast shirtless), comes in shortly after, presumably to grab said missing shirt.

Clint starts when he sees Steve standing there, but he relaxes and goes over to his closet. "You okay, Steve?"

"Yeah, it just feels...weird. Going back to SHIELD like this."

"Hey, it's gonna be fine. Hill's reasonable. Nat likes her, and Nat doesn't like many people."

"Well, if _Natasha_ likes her, then..."

"That's the spirit. C'mon, fearless leader, let's go do this."

Steve's glad for Clint's calmness and unflappability, and he grabs Clint's hand for a quick squeeze before they head down to the parking garage, game faces on.

There, Natasha is leaning against a car, talking to Darcy, who seems worried. Clint bounds over to insert himself in the conversation, leaving Steve to hover by the door.

Bruce and Thor come in together and circle around to stand with Steve, asking him what he thinks Hill wants to see them about.

Steve doesn't know, and Thor soon switches the conversation to a new restaurant they had visited recently, nudging Steve's ribs with his elbow to make sure he's paying attention.

It does sound interesting, so Steve listens to their recommendation, making a mental note.

Loki comes into the garage and joins Steve's little group, receiving a warm hug from Thor.

Tony's the last person in, which makes no sense because he had already been dressed at breakfast, but Steve decides that it isn't worth mentioning.

"Who's driving?" he asks instead.

"Me," Tony replies at the same time as Natasha says, "I am."

"Okay, compromise. I can do this. You know where we're going, I don't. I can follow you, and take birdboy there with me in case we get separated."

Natasha smiles, and asks, "Who wants to ride with me?" talking over Clint's spluttered protests at the nickname.

Darcy grabs Loki and Bruce and tugs them over to stand next to Natasha.

"Okay, guess you two are riding with me," Tony says to Steve and Thor. "We'd better take a SUV, all that shoulder isn't going to fit in anything smaller."

Natasha and Tony go over to the rack of keys and pick out the ones they need. As Natasha moves towards her car of choice, Steve calls, "If you get there first, wait until we get there to go inside, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," she returns, sliding behind the wheel.

Thor puts a hand between Steve's shoulder blades and gives him a light push. "Come on, Steve, or you will be left behind and we will all have to go inside SHIELD without you."

"Can't have that, can we?" Steve retorts, striding over to get into the backseat of the SUV with Clint, who perches on the running board dramatically until Steve shoves him, "Get off."

Sliding inside, Clint grins, "Make me."

"You're already inside the car, how does that make any sense?" Tony snarks from the front seat.

When he goes to turn on the radio, Thor is right there to lower the volume. "Not all of us enjoy having our eardrums blasted on a regular basis, Tony."

"Yeah, whatever, Rapunzel." Tony starts up the car, heading to the garage's exit, following Natasha.

The song on the radio changes, and Clint starts bobbing his head along.

Other than Tony's muttering under his breath about the stupidity of other drivers, the radio is the only source of noise as they follow Natasha in the small red car to wherever SHIELD headquarters are.

Tony manages to stay on Natasha's tail the whole way there, and when she pulls into an underground parking garage, Tony follows.

There's an automated security checkpoint, and as Natasha's car disappears around the corner, Tony rolls down his window and looks baffled.

"Oh for the love of— scoot the car up, Stark, and let me at it. Doubt Hill revoked our privileges, not if Tasha got through."

Tony does, and Clint punches a code into the keypad, and the arm of the security gate rises up. "Easy as pie, Stark."

"I was only a consultant, for crying out loud, I didn't get the fancy entry code," Tony gripes, but there's no heart in it.

"Probably because we always knew whenever you were coming. You did like to make an entrance."

"I still do! And I've never driven to SHIELD before, how plebeian!"

"Yeah? Driving three other guys in a SUV? Real splashy, Stark."

"Hey, hey, you two simmer down," Steve interjects. "Tony's still 'cool,' and Clint, thanks for getting us in. I guess Hill doesn't have much time to plan out the small stuff."

"Wonder if she has the trench coat..." Tony offers, but they all ignore him. Probably for the best. Director Hill has always seemed to have rubbed Tony the wrong way.

They park and group together for a second, and Steve figures it's worth a shot to say something, although the group doesn't seem big on listening to him in non-battle situations, and he's honestly more comfortable with it that way; this is a democracy, not Steve's one-man-show. "Hey, uh, let's all stay together, okay? I don't want anyone going off on their own. I'm sure Director Hill is on the up and up, but after what Fury tried to pull, I'm still kinda suspicious."

"So no wandering off and becoming a test subject for their experiments, got it," Tony bounces on his tiptoes.

Tony's getting worked up, Steve notices, and he resolves to keep an eye on the situation, pull Tony aside and talk to him if necessary.

But calling Tony out in front of everybody wouldn't do any good, so Steve turns to Clint instead and asks, "Where are we going?"

"This way, Captain," Hill herself interrupts, walking up behind them.

Steve resolutely doesn't jump, and instead watches Natasha spin around with a small smile on her face.

"Hello, Maria. You don't have people to come fetch the strangers hiding out in your parking garage now?"

Hill beckons for them to follow her, and replies, "Well, I do, but I wanted to come myself. I don't blame you for being jumpy after Fury used SHIELD to accomplish his own ends. I want you to know that he was not acting on official SHIELD orders at all."

"Yeah, about that, what the hell happened to him, anyway?" Tony inquires, elbowing his way up to the front of the crowd, past Darcy who looks like she'd enjoy sticking an elbow in him in return.

Steve's not sure _why_ Darcy doesn't like Tony, but he knows that there must be a reason.

Hill ignores Tony and starts walking towards the elevator Steve can see at the far end of the room.

He obediently trails after Hill and the others. Instead of going to the front to chat with Natasha and Hill, Clint hangs back with Steve.

When Steve shoots him an inquisitive look, Clint just shrugs.

At the elevator, it becomes clear that they are not all going to be able to fit inside, and Steve grabs Tony's elbow to keep him from getting on with Hill, jerking his head for Bruce to go instead.

Bruce does, and Tony angrily shakes Steve's hand off his arm but doesn't say anything.

Clint hangs back with Steve and Thor, letting Tony pace by himself.

The elevator returns for them, and they take it up to the level Clint indicates. An agent is waiting for them there, and he says, "The conference room is this way."

So much for not splitting up. But Steve supposes that it would have been worse to disregard their host's directions.

That doesn't stop him from running a quick head count when he arrives in the conference room, noting Loki (paler than usual), Darcy (quieter than usual), Bruce (hands clenched together in his lap), and Natasha (seeming perfectly at ease except for the tenseness in her posture).

"You're probably wondering why I called you here today," Hill begins from her spot at the head of the table, before they've even taken their seats.

"No shit," Tony mutters, and Steve gives him a slightly harder-than-friendly shove towards a chair.

"I appreciate the discretion you've demonstrated in your television appearances to preserve the secrecy of SHIELD. Especially you, Barton."

Clint jerks his head in response.

"And I, that is, _we_, have decided that SHIELD is going to remain a private organization. I considered going public for a while after the...incident with Nick Fury and the almost attack on Stark Tower, however, we have managed to make suitable excuses for that."

"Training exercises?" Tony suggests with a raised eyebrow.

Hill talks right over him. "My superiors believe that SHIELD operates more capably in the dark, and I agree. Therefore, I would request that you continue to maintain the same level of discretion in your comments that you have been demonstrating."

"We can do that," Steve agrees, and waits a moment to see if she has anything else to say. When it appears that she doesn't, he continues, "Is that the only reason you called us here? I could be wrong, but that could have been a conversation held over the phone."

"Probably," she tilts her hair to one side. "But I wanted to see you all for myself, and meet Loki and Ms. Lewis."

"Darcy," she asserts, half rising from her seat as if to go shake Hill's hand before thinking better of it.

"You're a brave woman, taking on all these..."

"Heroes," Darcy supplies. "And I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"Still, I admire that. If you ever decide that you'd like to work somewhere else..."

"You'd have to return my iPod first," Darcy says sweetly.

"Very well, Ms. Lewis. And Loki," Hill turns her attention to him, and he meets her gaze squarely. "It's also a pleasure to meet you. The real you."

"I am as real as they come," he smiles slightly. "But it is a pleasure to meet you as well. I trust that your organization and I will be able to get along."

"As long as you're nothing like your predecessor, I am sure that we will."

"Loki is a good man, not at all like Larry," Thor states defensively as Steve is about to open his mouth and make it clear that he won't stand for this kind of treatment of his teammates.

"Larry is the name we chose for Loki's doppelganger," Steve anticipates the question, although his tone is considerably cooler.

"I'm sure," Hill inclines her head towards Loki.

Tony's gone unusually quiet, and Steve glances towards him to see that he's occupied with something in his lap. He's probably hacking SHIELD _again_, but if it's keeping him from mouthing off to Director Hill, Steve doesn't mind. Maybe they'll be able to learn the real reason for this meeting, because he doubts that Hill is being entirely upfront with them.

"There was one other matter I thought you might be interested in," Hill states. "I saw that Barton referenced Coulson in his interview, and I appreciated his discretion in the matter of who Coulson's actual murderer was. Coulson has been buried, and I have the location here," she hands Natasha a slip of paper.

"What, no funeral?" Tony lifts his head to ask.

"SHIELD doesn't do funerals, Tony," Natasha informs him softly.

Steve notices Hill observing their interaction with keen interest, and after a minute, she breaks her silence, "You seem to be getting along remarkably well. More than well, I would say."

Her gaze turns to Darcy, who doesn't squirm under the attention.

"Congratulations, Natasha," Hill offers when it's clear that no one is going to rise to her bait.

"Thanks. SHIELD a big tabloid subscriber?"

"You know we are. Is yours the only relationship that has developed?" Hill could use some training in subtlety, that's for sure.

"Not my place to say," Natasha replies coolly, obviously bothered by Hill's line of questioning.

Thor is the one to answer Hill, with a simple "No."

"Then congratulations to you, Ms. Lewis," Hill says, determinedly smiling. "I had wondered what drew you all the way out here."

"Wrong person," Bruce offers lightly, struggling to keep his expression neutral.

Hill's surprise shows on her face for a moment before she covers it. "My apologies, and congratulations, Dr. Banner."

"Thanks," he retorts dryly, looking at Thor, who seems amused by the entire exchange.

Steve looks at Clint, who shakes his head a tiny fraction. He doesn't want SHIELD to know about them when they are still so new, not if he can help it, but he didn't want to make the decision without Clint's input.

Thankfully, Hill lets the subject drop, instead rising from her chair and stating, "We will probably be in touch with you. Although I would prefer to do my communications through a person other than Mr. Stark. He was less than thrilled to be woken up this morning."

Tony snarks, "Well, it's not really a pleasure talking to you either, sweetheart."

This, Steve decides, has got to stop. He doesn't appreciate the treatment they've been receiving, but Tony is just making things worse. Standing and approaching Hill, "I can give you my number, Director, if that would be satisfactory."

"It would," she replies. "Follow me."

Here he is breaking his own advice, Steve thinks, but she just leads him over to a nearby workstation and hands him the pad of sticky notes and a pen.

He writes his number quickly and perfunctorily thanks her for the meeting, trying to imply an apology for Tony without actually saying it.

She understands, "I've heard worse from him, don't worry. We just never got along."

We'll be going now, but thank you for the information about Coulson's grave."

He doesn't say 'ma'am' because he knows Natasha doesn't like the title and he can guess that Hill is similar in her preference as well. He may not like the way she's handling things, but he can still be respectful.

"Nice seeing you, Captain," Hill nods and turns on her heel, heading off.

Steve goes back to the conference room and gathers the team. They take the stairs down to the parking garage so that they don't have to split up, and when they have arrived at where they parked, it's Loki who suggests, "Are we going to visit Agent Coulson's grave today? Perhaps we could have lunch out as well."

"That's a good idea, if it's okay with everyone," Steve smiles at Loki gratefully.

"I can plug the address into my GPS," Natasha informs them. "Tony, why don't you ride with me?"

Before he can accept, Steve takes Tony's arm in a tight grip. "Give us a minute."

Pulling Tony out of earshot, Steve looks him in the face, "What in the hell was that, Tony? I'm just as angry over our treatment as you are, but that's no excuse to be rude."

"Hill and I have never gotten along. It's no big deal. And SHIELD's got a lot to answer for, in my opinion."

Wordlessly, Tony hands Steve the keys and stalks away, going to the passenger side of Natasha's car. Everyone else piles into the SUV, wanting to give them their space.

It's a tight fit, but they manage, and Steve slides into the driver's seat, starts up the car, and follows Natasha out of the parking garage and down the street.

Darcy directs Thor, riding shotgun again, on which radio station she prefers, and Thor goodnaturedly makes the switch.

The cemetery isn't too far away, and when they all pile out of their cars, Natasha reads a sign and then waves, "This way."

She checks plot numbers and headstones, leading the way, until she finally stops in front of a plain headstone that reads '_Philip J. Coulson'_ and his dates of birth and death.

"Well, this just won't do," Tony declares, stepping up to poke derisively at the headstone, his annoyance with Steve apparently forgotten. "Not at all. It looks like it would fall over if you looked at it wrong!"

He pulls out his phone, takes a couple of pictures, and then walks briskly away from the group, talking to JARVIS, "Get me the number for..."

He trails off as he gets out of earshot, and Steve looks at Natasha, "What was that?"

"Tony's going to do something nice, which he would much rather you didn't notice. Or mention," she explains.

Clint, meanwhile, is looking something up on his phone. "There's a flower shop over there," he points. "Anyone want to come with?"

"Sure, I'll go," Darcy shrugs easily.

Loki steps forward as well, so Thor follows his brother, leaving Steve with Natasha and Bruce.

"So, uh, what do you think was going on with that meeting at SHIELD?" Bruce asks.

"I'm not sure," Steve hedges, "But I suspect she wanted a look at our team dynamics, to see if SHIELD had any chance of taking us back over."

"I think you're right." Natasha looks troubled. Steve doesn't think she was particularly close with Hill, but then Natasha doesn't seem the type to have many friends, either. "They also probably wanted to make sure that the relationships weren't affecting our ability to get the job done."

"They?" Bruce inquires, pensive.

"The World Security Council. And Hill. She tends to agree with them."

"I hadn't realized they were so involved in the Avengers," Steve frowns.

"They pulled funding from the initiative, but Fury went around that. At the time it seemed like the best solution, but I wonder how long he'd been planning that, now. How long he'd been wanting a strike force, a weapon, of his own. Anyway, once the initiative was put into motion, they had no choice but to go along with it."

"After they tried to nuke it, you mean?" Tony inserts, stepping around Steve to join the conversation. "Where'd everyone else go?"

"Technically, they were trying to nuke the Chitauri. But yeah, I don't trust them at all. And everyone else went to go get some flowers for Coulson's grave," Steve supplies.

"They'd better come back soon, 'cause this travesty is going to be gone before long."

Sure enough, an out-of-breath man comes running up a few minutes later, after Tony and Natasha have gone off to the side and begun conversing quietly and Bruce and Steve have tried valiantly to find something to talk about

They don't succeed, and are soon shooed out of the way by Tony as he begins describing exactly what he wants to the newcomer.

And surprisingly, it doesn't sound too ostentatious. Just a better headstone than the current one, which is small enough to be overlooked when the grass gets high.

So Tony deals with that, and the others come back with the flowers, and they're soon climbing back into their cars.

"Hey, we'll be home in a little bit," Natasha says before she slides into the driver's seat of the car.

"Guess we're on our own for lunch, then," Steve tells the others. "Anybody got any suggestions, or do we just want to go home and cook?"

"Pizza!" Clint yells from the backseat.

Everybody winces at the volume but no one dissents, so they're soon on their way to the pizza place recommended by the GPS (which Darcy leaned over the seat and dealt with—Steve's driving lessons hadn't included those).

The hostess takes a second look at the size of their group (or maybe just the size of Steve and Thor), but she finds them a table and they all set to bickering over the menu.

Eventually, they are able to decide on three different sets of pizza toppings, and Steve settles in to enjoy some down time with his team. Well, most of them, anyway.

* * *

Going out for meals twice in one day seems excessive, so Steve just looks up the location of the restaurant Thor recommended (rather forcibly) and catches Clint later that afternoon.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow?"

Clint smiles, big and happy. "Sure thing, Steve."

"Okay, uh, what do we tell the others?"

"That we're going to dinner and no, they're not invited. Actually, I can tell Nat first and we don't have to announce it before we go or anything. So she can just tell the others when we don't show up for dinner. People don't like to question her."

"I can see why not," Steve laughs. "Okay, it's settled, then."

"Yep!"

And they go into the main room to watch the movie that Darcy just _demanded_ that everyone else see.

* * *

The next evening, Steve is the first one ready, and so _he_ resorts to pacing in the lobby until he realizes that this makes him seem like a nervous wreck.

Just because this is the first date he's ever asked anyone on doesn't mean he has any excuse to start worrying (because he asked Peggy out, sure, but they both knew he was a goner and there was no hope of a follow-through).

Yeah. Right.

But Clint's not too long in coming, stumbling out of the elevator, still tying a boot. "Sorry, Steve! Nat had me in a headlock and wouldn't let me go. She's mean."

"Seriously?" Clint and Natasha's antics are something that Steve has learned to be skeptical about. The two of them can be like Bucky, fond of exaggerating things.

"Yeah, and then I had to run and take the fastest shower of my life. I think half my skin's still up in my room."

"You're fine, Clint. It's not like we have reservations or anything. At least Thor didn't say we needed them."

They head towards the side door together; it's late enough that all the workmen have gone home for the day. "You got this recommendation from Thor? Are you sure it's not an all-you-can-eat buffet or something?"

"Yes, Clint. I looked it up. Now, uh, Thor said that they leave and arrive separately and they're usually not followed?"

"So I'll go out this door, and you go out that one in a couple minutes. Simple. Wait, where are we going, exactly?"

Steve gives Clint the directions and then turns to go out his own door.

He has to admit, this is never how he thought he'd be dating, not in his wildest dreams, but he's happy with it. Content.

More than just 'content,' really. Steve likes Clint a whole lot, and he seems to be pretty serious about this thing. Relationship. Whatever.

And that's one difference that would probably be a deal breaker for Steve. He doesn't think he could do a casual relationship.

Even though they've only been dating for a few days now, Clint seems invested in the relationship. And that's good.

Steve just hopes they aren't moving too fast, getting too co-dependent, like Tony and Natasha had been. He doesn't want to go through what they had gone through with their temporary split. Neither he nor Clint has another house on the other side of the country that they can retreat to.

Worry over that occupies him on the way to the restaurant. He gives Clint's name at the front desk, and the hostess shows him to their table in the back.

The place is quiet, calm, just like Thor said it would be.

They order, and then Steve asks, "Clint, do you think we're moving too fast?"

"Where'd that come from?" Clint seems guarded.

"Just thinking, I guess."

"We haven't been dating for that long, and we aren't spending all our time together or anything like that, so I don't think so. Do you think so?"

"Well, no. I just didn't know if you were or not."

"I don't think so. If we ever start being ridiculous like that, someone's bound to call us on it, don't worry."

Steve smiles, relieved, and then Clint steers the conversation into lighter waters, like what else Steve thinks they might do on a date, and what Steve's been drawing.

When he confesses to working on a sketch based on a couple of the pictures they'd taken at the zoo, Clint asks if Steve would mind him taking a look, but Steve wants him to wait until the picture's done.

He says so and is unconsciously holding his breath waiting for the response, until Clint shrugs and replies that he can wait 'til whenever Steve's ready, it's his artwork.

That's the last thing Steve needed to hear to settle his mind, and he goes home (separately from Clint) after paying the bill that evening, and rests easy.


	5. Falling Into Place

**Many thanks to my beta, dysprositos, for being fucking awesome.**

* * *

It's been a week after they met with Hill and went to Coulson's grave, and Clint's pretty damn happy.

Honestly, this is the first time he's felt comfortable using that particular word to describe himself since the Chitauri-and-Larry-Incident.

And a lot of his current joviality is due to Steve, sure, but Clint's just feeling a lot lighter now. He's sleeping better, and the fact that he actually has motivation to get out of the Tower is something he appreciates.

He hasn't _just_ been going out with Steve, either. Clint's gone to lunch with Natasha and even gone out with Darcy and Loki, when they wanted to go out but were a little unsure about doing so on their own (things are looking a lot better for both Loki and Bruce; Tony's been wandering around mumbling something about positive sales figures to no one in particular, and while Clint doesn't understand it, he figures it's good news).

Clint's even made a solo trip to Coulson's grave. Natasha and Tony went together after the new headstone (that Tony had ordered) had been installed, and she asked Clint along, but he turned her down.

He'd thought that going by himself would be the best thing. That way he could say his goodbyes in private. He felt a little like he'd let Coulson down, but Fury stabbing the agent hadn't been anything Clint could have prevented, and he knows that. He liked the new headstone; Tony had managed to keep it simple but it was still nicer than the one SHIELD had provided, taller and more sturdy.

Getting his feelings off his chest made him feel better, and he had gone home that afternoon and flung himself across Steve's bed while his boyfriend was sketching. Steve was still working on that picture from the zoo—Clint's eager to see it, but he doesn't want to rush him. He's never been much of an artist, but Clint understands that nobody does their best work under pressure.

When Steve commented on Clint's uncharacteristic levity, Clint just grinned back and rolled over onto his back.

And his mood had apparently been infectious, because pretty soon after, Steve had stopped drawing and they'd gone downstairs to play video games again. Clint managed to win more often than he didn't—what was all that crap about serum-enhanced reflexes?

But today the atmosphere is a bit darker, more somber than it has been lately.

After breakfast this morning (which Clint had volunteered to cook with Natasha), Thor, Loki, and Darcy are heading out to film Thor and Loki's interview, which will then be aired later in the afternoon.

Thor's definitely coming out as being in a relationship with Bruce, which is nerve-wracking for them (and for Darcy), and Loki's just stressed in general, which means that the whole group is out of sorts.

But Clint does his part to keep spirits up, turning on the radio in the kitchen and dancing around, using various kitchen utensils as his microphone as he lip-syncs.

He feels goddamn ridiculous, but Natasha is snickering at him, and he can hear someone out in the hall laughing as well, so it's not a total waste.

When breakfast is done, Clint and Natasha carry it out to the table, where Thor and Loki are dressed in their best and sitting stiffly next to each other, with Bruce on Thor's other side, twisting his napkin in his free hand (the other is under the table, presumably holding Thor's).

There's not a lot of their customary chatter, and when everyone's finished clearing the dishes, Clint hears Steve offer to walk them out.

He waits around for Steve, lingering by the elevator (they've put Bruce on dish duty in an attempt to keep him distracted, and Tony is supposed to be helping).

Steve comes back up after a bit, and Clint asks, "Wanna go to the gym?"

"Sure, but I get to pick the music this time. Your dancing was interesting, but your choice of music was pretty terrible."

"Oh, fuck you," Clint returns, but there's no venom in it.

They change into their workout clothes and meet up again in the hall between their rooms, heading to the gym, Steve's iPod in his hand.

Clint jerks his head towards it. "I'm surprised Stark hasn't confiscated that off you. He seems to view all Apple products as a personal affront."

"He hasn't seen it. I've been careful."

"Probably the best idea. He gets this...I don't know, crazed look in his eyes when he wants to throw something out the window."

"Tony's quite a personality."

Because this is something he's been wondering, Clint inquires, "He a lot like his dad?"

Steve turns to face Clint, serious, "I don't think so. I mean, he's pretty similar in a lot of ways, but those are mostly physical. Howard was, well, manic, almost. There was nothing stopping him from doing what he wanted, when he wanted. Tony's got a lot of that same energy, but he's much more...this sounds terrible, but he's much more functional in society and around other people."

"What do you mean?" Clint wouldn't ever really describe Tony as 'functional.'

"Well, Howard would get lost in his work, and you'd have to yell at him or even go shake his shoulder to get his attention, but if you go down to see Tony, he's usually pretty aware that you're there, and if it's possible, he'll stop what he's doing to talk to you."

"That makes sense," Clint says, walking through the gym doors and tossing his shirt over to the side unselfconsciously.

Steve swallows hard, and Clint pretends not to notice, like the gentleman he's totally not.

Quickly, they settle into their familiar routine, Clint on the treadmill, running hard, and Steve working with his favorite heavy bags.

But Steve's plugged his iPod into the wall, and soon the somewhat familiar strains of his workout playlist fill the gym.

It's nothing that Clint would have thought Steve would enjoy listening to (modern pop music, mostly), but apparently a SHIELD intern had programmed it, and Steve did enjoy it.

Clint soon loses himself in the familiar rhythm of one foot in front of the other, arms pumping.

By the time he's done, he's sweating pretty hard, but he's still feeling up to a sparring match.

Steve wraps up not too long after Clint does and ducks through the ropes, climbing onto the sparring platform where Clint's lounging in a corner, legs stretched out in front of him.

Offering a hand up, Steve calls for JARVIS to lower the volume on the music some.

Springing to his feet without assistance, Clint feints a swing straight at Steve's face; he jumps back.

This, too, is familiar, the almost-dance around each other, the ducking and constant movement. At one point, Clint has to call a halt to blink sweat out of his eyes, but for the most part he's proud that he can keep up with a supersoldier.

But what's unfamiliar is, when Steve's got Clint's arms pinned, Clint surging up, muscles straining, for a quick kiss.

That's new, and he pulls back as soon as he's realized that he'd done it.

Steve's grip slackens, and Clint straightens up, "You okay, Steve? Sorry, uh..."

Instead of answering, Steve slides a tentative hand into Clint's sweaty hair and pulls him closer.

That's pretty damn agreeable, and Clint goes with the movement, stretching his face up to Steve's again.

They kiss for a few minutes before Steve pulls back. "Um..."

"First kiss with a guy?" Clint guesses.

"Yeah. And I, uh, don't have that much experience kissing dames, either."

"That's cool. This whole thing is supposed to go at a pace that's comfortable for both of us, Steve, so you don't have to do anything you don't want to just because you think _I_ want to."

"Yeah. Thanks, Clint."

"The hell you thanking me for, Rogers? I'm not that good of a kisser!"

Clint swings between the ropes without waiting for an answer, and Steve follows him.

They both go for their water bottles, pulled from their lockers when they got to the gym, before there's any more conversation.

And then Steve's the one to break the silence, "I know we've gotta spend most of the rest of the day with the team, but you wanna go somewhere tomorrow? Maybe spend most of the day out?"

"Sure thing. Nat said Coney Island's real fun; have you been, uh, since?"

"No, I haven't. Sounds like fun, though. I bet you won't have to deal with me throwing up on you, not now."

"Didja heave on Bucky, then?" Clint can't think of any other reason for Steve to say that.

"Yeah. He was real good about it though. Only teased me for a couple months after."

"_Only_ a couple months?"

"That was Bucky, though. He was the life of the party, always laughing. War changed that, though. Changed all of us."

Steve seems melancholy, and Clint doesn't want that. He swipes Steve's water bottle from his hand and presses himself in close for another kiss, longer this time.

He breaks away, and quickly gathers up his shit, running for the door, "See ya in a few!"

He doesn't look back over his shoulder, but if he did, he'd have seen Steve standing there, dumbstruck.

* * *

After Clint's showered and changed clothes, he wanders back down to the common floor. They probably ought to tell the team today, he figures, since shit just got more serious with them. Waiting much longer to tell the others would feel like sneaking around.

So when Steve appears, wet hair still dripping down his forehead, Clint whispers his idea in Steve's ear, "I bet they're gonna kind of be down when they get back, so why don't we tell 'em that we're dating then? Kinda lighten the mood and everything."

"That's a good idea," Steve agrees, and then, noticing the time, they go into the kitchen to see about rustling up some lunch; the timetable Darcy had provided said that she, Loki, and Thor should be back soon.

Once they've made enough sandwiches to feed an army, Steve glances up, "Hey, JARVIS, do you mind letting the others know that lunch is in here? And has anyone heard from the group who went out?"

"Dr. Banner has indeed heard from Master Thor; they are returning from their appointment and should be back soon. I will notify the others, Mr. Rogers."

Clint still is hit with the almost-irrepressible urge to giggle when he hears Steve referred to like that, but he manages to suppress it. He'll have to dig up a couple episodes of that show and let Steve watch them. Clint think that Steve will probably get a kick out of it.

They carry the several plates of sandwiches out to the dining room and go back for chips and drinks, working together well.

Tony's the first to pop his head around the door, keeping up a steady stream of chatter directed at Bruce, who's merely nodding under the onslaught, right behind the billionaire.

Natasha slips up behind Clint and taps him on the shoulder, and he protests loudly, acting shocked, for dramatic effect. Usually this would earn him an eye roll at least for being such a drama queen, but Bruce is smiling a little bit, and so Clint escapes retribution.

Not too long after they've taken their seats, the group who'd been out comes in.

Thor gives Bruce a quick kiss and drops into the seat next to him; Loki and Darcy sit down quietly.

After they've had some time to eat, Steve asks, "How'd it go?"

"Well, I think," Thor answers.

"They had a nice green room," Darcy smiles.

"Loki?" Steve prompts.

"I was rather displeased with their general attitude towards me at the beginning, but Thor quickly settled the hostility."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Loki," Steve winces sympathetically. "Glad it's over, though?"

"Hell yes," Darcy responds tiredly. Thor and Loki nod in agreement.

Conversation trails off for a moment, but then Clint gathers up his nerve, clears his throat, and announces, "Uh, Steve and I are dating. And we wanted you guys to know."

There's no general uproar like there had been when Natasha and Tony let the others know about their relationship, but then Clint isn't just casually kissing Steve in front of everyone.

Not that there was anything wrong with that method, but Clint and Steve aren't quite that open.

But they do get congratulations from Darcy and Tony, and smiles from Bruce, Loki, and Thor.

After lunch everyone goes their own separate ways for a while, with Darcy's loud reminder, "It comes on at 3:30!" ringing in their ears.

Clint heads to his room for a bit, wanting a little time to himself.

He winds up sprawled across his bed with his laptop, just mindlessly browsing the internet, but it's nice to be alone with his thoughts.

And, well, funny cat pictures.

* * *

Once he's killed enough time, he heads back down to the living room, wanting to be early to their usual interview-watching routine.

He's the first one down, so he heads into the kitchen to start getting the popcorn ready. Since they had eaten a late lunch, he doesn't make as many bags as usual, but he thinks he makes enough.

The first couple bags are done and sitting on the counter when Darcy comes into the room, having changed from her professional attire into comfortable clothes. Clint reaches over to pat her shoulder awkwardly, because she seems worried.

"'S gonna be fine, Darce. Uh, Darcy, sorry."

"You can call me Darce, I don't mind. Brings back memories."

Because this seems like a good distraction, he asks, "Good ones, I hope?"

"Kinda. My mom used to call me that. But she's dead, and it's better if I remember the way she was before."

She hunches her shoulders in protectively, and Clint has just started to kick himself for making her feel worse when she continues, "But it was the cancer that did her in, and we did all that we could to fight it. And at least she's not suffering anymore. I haven't been called 'Darce' since she died except for Bruce, and I kinda miss it."

"Okay, then, Miss Darce, do me a favor and take those," he indicates the finished bags, "into the living room. Knowing our teammates and their appetites, there are probably already a few hungry wolves waiting in there."

"Sure thing, Clint," she smiles again, her posture returning to normal.

He quickly finishes up and goes into the living room where Steve has saved a small space on the couch next to him.

"Don't think I'm _that_ skinny, Steve-o," Clint jokes, but he manages to wedge himself into the space anyway, as Tony and Natasha scoot further to the other side of the couch to make room.

'Steve-o?' Steve mouths, but Darcy talks over him, "Show's starting, everybody hush."

The opening credits play, and then the hosts introduce themselves, Thor, and Loki. They do start off slightly hostile towards Loki, but Thor's quick to interject with a stern correction.

And even though their opinions are probably unchanged, they at least have the sense to keep those to themselves when faced with an angry older brother.

Especially one as large as Thor.

So they talk a little about Loki and Thor and their childhood on Asgard, until the subject of a significant other comes up.

'_So, Thor, Loki,'_ one host says, leaning forward, _'is there anyone special waiting back home for you?'_

'_If you mean Asgard, then there is not,'_ is Thor's coy answer.

'_And if I don't mean Asgard?'_

'_Then there is someone for me. His name is Dr. Bruce Banner.'_ Simple and to the point. Clint approves.

Bruce inhales noisily and Thor slides an arm around his shoulders. Clint's not really sure what the big deal is, he just has the vaguest sense that Bruce is quite attached to his privacy.

'_Your teammate?'_ the host questions, and damn, if that isn't one of the dumbest questions Clint's heard in his whole life.

'_Yes, Bruce is our teammate.'_ Surprisingly, Loki answers this one.

'_What do you think about this, Loki?'_

'_Bruce is a good man, and I am honored to call him brother.'_

The other host gets in the game, _'Are you gay, Thor?'_

'_I am not. __Sex or __gender__, it__ is of little consideration to me.'_

In for a penny, in for a pound, because _'How about you, Loki?'_ is the next question.

'_I do not believe that is any of your business,'_ Loki responds coolly. _'However, I have no such attachment __as my brother__, I will say that much.'_

The hosts change the subject then, talking about Thor and Loki's perceptions of Earth, what they have enjoyed and what they miss about home.

They both miss their parents, and that transitions into a short discussion of the structure of Æsir government. There's no reference to Loki being a member of another species or even not being Thor's biological brother, and Clint thinks that is probably for the best. They need to present as much of a united front as possible, especially when dealing with barely-concealed hostility.

As the interview is wrapping up, Thor is asked, _'What's next for you?'_

'_Probably a visit home. Communication between realms is nigh impossible, and I need to ascertain the status of several...things.'_ His pause is fairly obvious and Clint wonders just what, exactly, Thor needs to do that he doesn't want people knowing about.

A little more chit-chat, and then the interview is over, and Bruce is quite literally dragging Thor from the room, a stormy look on his face.

Loki sadly watches them go before beginning to gather up the debris from their snack. "I will wash the bowls," he offers, and Steve gives him a quiet, "Thanks," in return.

"We'll do dinner in a while?" Tony asks, and then without waiting for a response, he answers his own question, "Good, yeah, I'll be down in a bit."

He disappears out the door, and Natasha smiles at Darcy, asking, "Want to come hang out with me?"

They disappear out the door, and Clint's left with Steve.

"You okay, Steve?"

"I just didn't know Thor wanted to go back to Asgard."

"He's a prince, and I'm sure he's got his duties. And he probably misses his parents, poor guy. God knows I'd be doing the same in his shoes."

"And Bruce? He seemed kinda surprised that Thor was planning on leaving."

"That doesn't sound like the kind of thing Thor should've announced on national TV before talking it over with Bruce. Yeah, I'll admit that. He fucked up. But he's human. Well, kinda. And he makes mistakes. That's understandable. I'm sure he's not planning on doing anything without letting us know first. But he's got to work things out with Bruce first, for sure."

"You're probably right. It's just... every time, _every_ damn time I think I'm making some headway with this team, something happens. It's frustrating, Clint."

"Sure it is, Steve. But you're doing a helluva job, and everyone respects you. Hell, we all respect each other, and that's more than I've ever had on any other team I've worked with."

"You're right. Again."

"That's something I've never been told before," Clint grins.

"Probably because you keep your mouth shut most of the time."

"I'm a sniper. I observe people. That's what I do. And most of the time, it's easier to do when I keep my mouth shut."

"Makes sense. I'm gonna go up to my room, but you wanna help me with dinner in a bit? Bruce and Thor were supposed to be on duty, but I don't think they'll be feeling like it..."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Sure thing. I think I'm just gonna hang out here, so just give me a call when you're ready, Steve."

Steve smiles at Clint and walks out of the room.

Sighing, Clint grabs the remote from where Darcy left it and flops across the couch, turning the TV on and settling in to channel surf.

* * *

Steve retrieves Clint after an episode and a half of M*A*S*H, and Clint asks JARVIS to put it on in the kitchen. When they get in there, Loki's long gone, but everything's put away and the dishwasher's running.

Digging hamburger meat out of the fridge, Steve sets Clint to french fry duty while he makes the burgers, consulting a recipe he's brought in on his tablet.

There's a giant bag of frozen french fries in the freezer, and Clint digs those out and starts up the fryer, unearthing the giant container of peanut oil in the pantry.

Once the first batch is going, Clint starts getting buns ready for toasting, checking on Steve who is now mixing onions in with the hamburger meat.

"You gonna grill those?" Clint asks. There might be a grill around here someplace (knowing Tony, there probably is) but he's never seen one.

"Nope, just gonna put 'em in a pan on the stove," Steve answers absently, mind on his work.

"Well, smells good."

He keeps one ear and eye on the TV show, listening to the pleasant crackle of the french fryer with the other, just enjoying the quiet and Steve's company.

Neither of them seems pressed to fill the silence with absent, unimportant chatter, and Clint likes that.

Soon, he's pulling the first batch out of the french fryer and dropping the next ones in. He gets a splash of hot oil on his hand, and hisses, hurrying around Steve (who's now standing at the stove next to him, working on his burgers) to stick it under the faucet.

"You okay?" Steve calls, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. More startled than hurt, it wasn't a whole lot."

"You good to keep on going, or should I call someone else to help?"

"Nah, I got this," Clint dries his hand off and returns to his spot, checking to make sure that Steve's hands are clear of anything hot before bumping him with his shoulder.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Steve hedges.

"Well, thanks a lot, Steve. Glad to know my boyfriend's on my side."

Steve scoots over until their sides are pressed together. "He is now."

Clint groans, "That was _so_ corny, Steve, damn. And why are you referring to yourself in the third person?"

"You mean you don't have more than one of us floating around?"

"More than one Steve? Never. More than one boyfriend? Well..."

Steve shoves Clint carefully before pulling away, flipping his burgers. "I don't share too well."

"Me either."

"Going steady, then?"

"Of course, you moron."

With that settled, they only talk about dinner, getting everything ready as Clint goes over to pull the buns out of the toaster and start slicing some lettuce and tomato.

Eventually, Steve has a plate piled high with burgers and Clint's got a stack of buns and all the garnishments lined up; he's gotten cheese, ketchup, and mustard out of the fridge.

Steve asks JARVIS to let everyone know that dinner's ready, and Clint carries the big bowl of french fries out to the table along with the saltshaker.

When people start trickling in, Clint directs them to assemble their own burger and grab their own drink.

When everyone's gone through, he grabs his own food and drink, sticking the ketchup bottle under his arm to carry it out to the table.

There, they mostly eat in silence until Steve starts, "Uh, Thor?"

"You wish to know about my plans to return to Asgard."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Bruce and I have discussed this, and I will be leaving at some point this month. He does not wish to accompany me," here Thor's mouth twists, "but I have not yet talked to Loki about going with me. I do not know how long my visit will be; I hope to keep things short but my parents will have demands on my time."

"Okay, Thor, and I'm sorry for putting you in the hot seat like this."

"I was flustered and said something that I shouldn't have," Thor looks around the table, meeting everyone's eyes, "and I am sorry if I upset anyone."

"Thank you for that, Thor. I think we're good with the interviews now, don't you guys?"

Everyone nods or throws in a "Yes" (Tony's response is a "Hell yes"), and Steve smiles a little. Clint's glad to see the team responding positively to him; he knows that Steve worries about that.

And then they change the conversation to other things, although Thor and Bruce aren't talking much, and then they finish dinner.

Clint's heading out, ready to go take a long, hot shower and then sleep (_It's been a _long _day_), when Steve intercepts him.

"Come up to my room for a while?"

And Clint's not so desperate to get to bed that he would turn that down, "Sure, Steve, what's up?"

Cryptically, Steve says, "You'll see."

In his room, Steve hurries to grab his sketchbook and flip it open to a page.

It's an intricate sketch of the area around the elephants at the zoo; Clint recognizes the front of the enclosure and remembers Steve taking the picture.

But Steve's gone to the trouble of adding in two men standing close together at the railing, facing the exhibit.

Clint's hair is pretty distinctive, though, and so is Steve's.

Gaping, he looks up at Steve, who is bashful.

"Damn, Steve, just... Holy shit. That's incredible."

"You like it?"

"Course I do, Steve. Uh, what are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know." He pauses, then adds, tentatively, "You want it?"

"If you don't mind. I'll get a frame for it and put it on the wall in my room."

"I don't mind."

"Awesome. I'll go shopping tomorrow. Maybe we can go somewhere on our way back from Coney Island, if we're not too tired?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"You've just got some amazing talent, Steve."

He blushes. "Thanks."

Carefully, Clint closes the sketchbook and puts it aside, tugging Steve down to sit on the bed next to him.

He reaches over to kiss Steve, and Steve leans into it, wrapping his arms around Clint's waist.

They stay like that for a while before Clint pulls back, "I'm gonna head to bed. We should probably get an early start, m'kay?"

"I'll wake you up at 5:30, then," Steve responds seriously.

"Hell no. That's not cool, Steve."

"I was joking, sheesh! Let's plan on having breakfast with the others and then heading out straight after that, okay? Uh, well, one of us will head out then, the other's gonna have to hang back a few minutes."

"Sounds good. I'm looking forward to it!" And Clint really is. Any bad memories that the amusement park might dredge up of his childhood, he'll be able to ignore.

"Me too."

Clint gets one last kiss and then goes down the hall to his room, ready to sleep.

And he'll sleep well that evening, considering his long day.

He and Steve will have a good time at Coney Island the next day, and they won't be so tired that they can't pick out a frame on their way home.

And people will be buzzing about Thor and Bruce's relationship, but JARVIS and Darcy will make an effort to keep the worst of that away from the team, and honestly, it could be a lot worse. Clint coming out before probably did help matters some.

And one day, when they're out on the street, Steve will casually and deliberately reach over and take Clint's hand, holding it until they're back to the Tower.

The pictures are going to be in the paper and all over the internet, but Steve and Clint decide to not make any sort of official statement, just to let people believe what they will.

The team is going to face some challenges when it's time for Thor to leave town, but they've got a good enough foundation built up that they'll be able to get around that.

But that's still a ways off, but now, Clint and Steve's story is over. They've dealt with their friction, gotten over it. And they're only one part of the team, and others still have a story to share.

* * *

**As always, the host is fictional.**

**Well, I still can't believe that's over. Holy shit.**

**1. I honestly could not have done this without dysprositos. She's been a constant source of support and is fantastic about listening to me whining. As well as being a super beta. Thank you, beta buddy.**

**2. And all of you readers! Y'all have been great, I so love getting alerts that someone has reviewed, favorited, or followed my story. Thank you all so much!**

**3. One more story to go in this series, I think. It's called "Fragile," features Loki/Darcy, and is posting now!**

**D'you think we can get the reviews on this baby up to 25? I'd sure be happy about it...**


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